Memories are like fine wine. When you first taste it, it is spicy and choking. After a few sips, it becomes more and more mellow and mellow. When you drink it from a pot, the fragrance will linger on your teeth and cheeks for endless aftertaste.
Recalling the beautiful clothes and angry horses when I was young, and the happy grudges, I can't help but feel a little immature and ridiculous, but when I think about it again, I was true to myself at that time.
Why haven't Zhan Zhao and Bai Yutang gone through this for so many years?
Conception: