That scar, whose old scar can still drink tea calmly and crush the fireworks of this prosperous age; how can the blood-stained painting of the country be compared to the little cinnabar between your eyebrows that covers the world?
He has a peerless appearance that makes all women in the world extremely jealous, and a weird smile that doesn't show any signs of it. Memories that have been covered in dust, memories that are unbearable to look back on.
The world, so what if you get it. . .
No matter how beautiful the flowers bloom, they cannot escape the fate of withering.
Since we know that it will eventually wither, why should we bloom again?
Is it for the beauty of that moment? . . .