The young man in front of him is as gentle as jade, with a pair of smiling peach blossom eyes slightly raised, and he is no longer as unruly as he was then. The afternoon sun fell on him through the treetops, and the young man said to her seriously: "Lolo, do you know? I have been waiting for this moment for a long time."
If the beauty of the past is not as beautiful as a brocade, why should I comfort the years?
Ps: The copywriter is incompetent, only those who like it will be admitted.