When we met for the first time, under the lilac tree, he was wearing a green shirt, and she was wearing a purple shirt. Everything was so beautiful. Between the laughter and conversation, the fragrance of lilacs was lingering. She thought that this was what life tasted like.
However, like a curse, good things never last. When we met again, he was wearing golden armor and red robes, with a long tassel in his hand. Thousands of iron cavalry and flashing swords and guns were his background. And she, struggling in the firelight and blood, was as humble as an ant under his iron hoof.
Why do you get closer but then stay away? Is it easy to forget someone? Where once there were blooming flowers, now there are mourning everywhere. The scent of lilacs has long disappeared, and the smell of blood has made humble survival her only goal.
If this is your game, I'm sorry, I won't play with you anymore. If trampling on my dignity is your only pleasure, then if I still have that thing, I am willing to put it at your feet with both hands.
The meeting under the lilac tree was just a dream. Now, it's time to wake up from the dream.