Zetian circled slowly around the edge of Bingsheng, feeling like he wanted to go back to a morning that had been repeated for many days, where the birds were still singing and the white clouds were still the same.
He walked forward unhurriedly from this end of the road, passing through some short distances in the past. The breeze blew through the sleeves and walked away silently.
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But, even if it doesn't last forever, even if it doesn't last forever.
We are still irrepressibly naive in our respective loves, always delusional.
Conception: