"It's better to paint ink in spring and play the piano in autumn. Worry like this in autumn is the best way to kill your spirits." She said with a smile. There is nameless sorrow in my heart.
"With me, it won't happen." I said with a smile. The sycamore trees behind Xiaoxin were rustling in the wind and falling leaves, one by one quietly sliding down. Xiaoxin, who was dressed in plain white and as bright as the sun, held my hand with a smile and walked on the endless avenue of sycamore trees. Beside us, the branches of the parasol trees were mottled with pale yellow. The autumn light of October fell in the gaps between the sparse branches and leaves. Occasionally, sparrows and mice that had been fed in the canteen swished across the concrete pavement.
Conception: