In the south of the Yangtze River, when I first saw the winding and deep alleys, I was astonished at just one glance. What kind of landscape could cultivate such smart purple eyes, and what kind of experience could cultivate such an indifferent temperament?
Time has passed, and the scenery in the south of the Yangtze River remains the same, but the small bookstore has been empty, and the naked body is also covered in dust. . . . . . . .
Fengxiu, I have tidied up the bookstore as it was when you were still here, just waiting for its real owner to return.