"Qing, this is a book of poems I just bought. It's newly released." I pulled her over excitedly, "Okay, then read a poem and I'll listen to it, it'll be hypnotic." My wife smiled playfully, leaning against my chest with a heavy tiredness. The fragrance of her hair made me itchy, so I couldn't help but brush her hair while opening the book. "Alone on the hillside, little child, I see you, singing as you walk... Maybe someone, little child, has picked you up (neither loving nor hating) in a playful way, and thrown you into the world like a small stone."
Exactly - a word that wakes up the person in the dream, fate is still you.
Conception: