When we met for the first time, it was just in the misty rain from the south of the Yangtze River, and through the curling tea smoke, the man in Tsing Yi smiled lightly through the barrier of painted gauze. It captivated my mind like that, but it was so profound that I didn't even know it.
At that time, they were just passers-by passing each other, just dressed in green clothes and a bottle of wine, warmed up and cooled down, and that was it. But how many numerologists could have predicted that the intertwined fate would stain the green clothes with dust, or sprinkle venom on the unripe bones.