I have never thought about what color the flame is. It's just a coincidence that the scenery I saw that day was so wonderful and gorgeous. His lost eyes couldn't tell whether it was a fatal temptation or a warm destination. He never thought of it. Likewise, Huo Huo did not expect that his inadvertent behavior would attract stunning attention.
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Just like love, we never think about the value of love. Perhaps love is the last thing in the world. It can neither be eaten nor become a necessity of life. Sometimes it can even cause injury or even death. Why is there never a shortage of crazy men and resentful women in this world? Life is like a dream, and life is just a dream. Is it because it is too beautiful and persistent? Or because it's already deep in it.