Today there is a light rain of apricot blossoms, and the peach blossoms beside the broken bridge are in bloom, but the branches can no longer bear the full color of the peach blossoms. After all, the petals are falling with the wind, gently caressing my face, like your gentle kiss.
Such a beautiful place, such a charming man is calling in front of my eyes, but it is a pity that I no longer hear anything, and I no longer pick up anything.
When it comes to beauty care, it turns out that I own nothing and have never picked up anything. . . . . .