Hydrangea is a kind of flower, a kind of flower with layers of layers that cannot be seen at a glance.
He searched all the way with his lost memories, about his love and his hatred... Suddenly he found that there were too many things forgotten and lost in the years, but what remained unchanged were the clusters of fragrant hydrangeas that bloomed every year in the mountains...
How could I forget it? On the mountain path full of green and moist hydrangeas, he had been so close to his generous and warm back.
How could I forget it? There was once a pair of gentle lips that whispered softly in my ears like a verse:
"The flower language of the fragrant hydrangea is 'cold and ruthless in appearance'."
Intention:
Reader comments
I would like to recommend a song called "Aoi's Boundary Line". I thought of this song when I read the article. It matches very well. Author's reply:
I listened to it. It's very light and interesting. But is it available in English?
It's been updated. It's not easy.
This is not the fault of system fragmentation at all, sigh.
I would like to recommend a song called "Aoi's Boundary Line". I thought of this song when I read the article. It matches very well. Author's reply: I listened to it. It's very light and interesting. But is it available in English?
It's been updated. It's not easy.
This is not the fault of system fragmentation at all, sigh.