Mist and drizzle veil the gauzy landscape, while fog hangs like fine silk. The moon's spirit sinks by the broken bridge, and starry eyes gaze toward the edge of the sky. The scene is like a mirage.
In this valley, a scene as illusory as a dream, a young man sits alone with a jade goblet, leaning halfway over the stone steps. His petal-soft lips part and close now and then, and a faint blush colors his delicate face. Though he is already dead drunk, his grip on the goblet only tightens. That fleeting glimpse of dark red in the cup would ultimately make him forsake his whole life for that person.
[This is Mo Mo's first time posting a story. I know it's not very good (fidgeting with my fingers), but I'll work hard. Please feel free to share any thoughts (I know you've all been lurking for years...). *bows*]
Dear, let me take a look
Let me give you a thumbs up. . . .