Even though his past life left a deep imprint on his heart, it still cannot account for all the grudges and grudges in this life. Remember the flowers blooming, remember the sword roaring,
I remember the years I was waited for, I remember the years I was waited for, but I just don't remember my face. The chaotic clouds and flowing water, the snow and the moon are all mourning, and all kinds of sorrow are turned into a long song and a smile.
If life is like a dream, why should I be paranoid and waste life after life? I would like to turn into rain, the red tears that fall in your heart that cannot be turned away; I would like to turn into snow,
Become the indelible cloud that condenses your memories. I wrote this book full of lovesickness memories.
I waited for my past life and walked through this life. If there is reincarnation, can you recognize me properly?