They were large tracts of Manzhu and Shahua, blooming and withering wantonly in the air.
The boundless blue fire of karma burned blazingly in the cold night.
He stood there alone.
Under his feet was the dark water.
The silver ripples slowly wrinkled into small ripples.
There is a beautiful wilderness there.
There are many, many people there.
His indifferent eyes were motionless.
Only tears are flowing quietly.
"Those children who loved singing were buried in the soil under the flowers. I hope that next spring, the new flowers will bloom with their smiling faces..."
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I hope you can read this novel quietly and slowly.
This is not a casual browsing.
Admittedly, it's not like tasting tea – chew it carefully and slowly.
Maybe you will like it.
Maybe... Don't like it.
But please, read slowly.
You'll feel the difference - compared to if you read it all in one minute.