The man held a large bouquet of roses in a somewhat restrained manner, with the corners of his clothes tied neatly into his waist. Although the coat had some wrinkles and looked a little downcast, I was standing at the door of the long-distance bus station waiting a week after Valentine's Day.
The young man, who was still half-grown, had a fashionable haircut and held a beautiful girl in school uniform in his arms. Holding a bottle of Coke forward with one hand, he lazily rested his body on the girl's body.
They passed each other.
They wouldn't have crossed paths.
Life is like this, there are always miracles and despair.
Hold a cup of Pu'er and smell the lingering fragrance.