Weeds spread over the winding paths, which are bumpy and bumpy - we call them patchy roads.
The leaves cover half the sky, and the sun shines through the narrow gaps, leaving a faint shadow - we call it mottled shadow.
Never experienced setbacks but experienced warmth and coldness; was pure thousands of years ago but witnessed history; melted into weeping tears in the first and last touches
We call it: Ban Tears
A tear shook the sky, and an elegant smile crossed the corner of her mouth. The hardships along the way illuminated her lonely back, and even the tears she shed bloomed like a lotus.
She only knows that her road is mottled; her shadow is mottled; her tears are also mottled...