Ping saw it raining again. Gray and misty. The large poplar forest looks like a cave shrouded in smoke. Deep and tight.
Ming was walking alone, with leaves under her feet so thick that water would splash out when she stepped on them. The air is as humid as a jellyfish, or the tip of a kissing tongue. It's so moist that when you reach out and grab it, you can see drops of water on your fingertips and palms. The long, long hair was wet and stuck tightly to his face, which was uncomfortable but also very comfortable. He is so contradictory, continuing and surviving.
Suddenly he saw Miao running past him. Although there was no wind, her long hair was flying in the air, and it seemed that the thick fog did not wet her forehead. She smiled, rarely so bold and happy. It seemed that she was holding her hand tightly, and wanted him to cry and laugh, and wanted him to say thank you.
Conception: