It Would Be Better Not to Encounter the Beauty of the City

I never told you that on that empty Jiangnan Street in the middle of the night, you appeared in front of me covered in blood. I heard the sound of red thread knotting. But now, the red rope is in tatters. My favorite is the braised fish you made. If there is an afterlife, can you cook it for me to eat? Practice writing on Father's Day, for newbies. It's purely fictitious, so don't criticize if you don't like it. Short story. Conception: