There is a kind of flower called Luo Rui. Every night, it will bloom quietly in front of my window, falling all over the ground in bright red. Every time the wind passes by, it will roll up, fly, fall and disappear.
A piece of love, a trace of injury.
Passed away, if you had not met me at the beginning, if you had not fallen in love with me at the beginning, we would not have ended up like this.
We finally have no ending, even though I already knew it.
Did you know?
Your eyes are like the sea that I have never seen again in my life.
Perhaps, we have never regretted, we have loved, hated, and complained, and that is enough.
Do you still remember Luorui? That bright red color is the cinnabar you left on my chest that has never been erased.
I am the messenger of the night, so I am destined for destruction. Dear, I'm sorry,
I can't give you the future you want, or the warmth you want.
If there is another life, I would like to be the woman who wears gauze by the West Lake, and you will be the young man who walks singing.
We can play the harp and the harp in harmony and respect each other like guests. I play the harp and you compose poetry.
We can dance in the pistil garden with pieces of falling flowers.
We can know each other, love each other, and stay together for a lifetime.
Unfortunately, there is no if.
Dear departed, I love you, I really love you.
Therefore, you should be happy without me. There will always be someone who will love you on my behalf.