Short prose, short story.
You don't know what kind of past she has had, but you can vaguely see the scenery on her face that has not been erased by time. He vaguely knows that she has had many stunning beauties, had many earth-shattering love affairs, and has painted makeup as red as peach blossoms.
The heartbeat of a moment, the emotion of a lifetime.
Young love, joyful heart, passionate sweat, heart-wrenching crying. It was just annihilated in the dust and turned into a crimson rouge color on the hollow window grilles.