The mountains in the distance are undulating, intermittently tearing out pieces of blue silhouettes.
A burst of thunder suddenly sounded on the other side of the mountain. The brush between the index finger of Zuo Li's right hand paused, and embarrassing ink marks were printed on the dark yellow ground.
He twitched the corners of his mouth almost invisibly, turned around and started writing. The white manuscript paper was instantly covered with ink-black handwriting, and the words were in full bloom.
A hundred years of waiting on the paper, the closeness and separation of the figures.
After a while, he relaxed his long eyebrows and closed the scroll.
It's dawn.
In the windy years, she met her shadow partner, and the mysteries of her life experience were quietly revealed one by one. Friendship, family affection, and love gradually moved towards the mystery.