Someone once said, live well and live well. But now, every year when the flowers bloom, I hear it as a call. I know you don't want me to do this.
It turns out that in the end, the Begonia flower could not save me from my lost journey home.
Or, let all the unforgettable memories turn into sad tombstones in the lean years, commemorating the love that was not love on a certain day in the years, and all ended in vain.
When the begonia flowers fall, all dreams will be dusted one by one, but isn't that too desolate...
Intention: