In the dead of night, touching the scar under the orchid bracelet feels like being trapped in the boundless snowy land, helpless. Since it is a memory that is painful enough to commit suicide, why bother to pursue it? It was a gift from God to take it away, right?
You said that life is basically the same: there are three thousand weak water, but you are determined to take only one scoop, but it is bitter and difficult to swallow.
I picked up the orchids on the ground with a wry smile. Can I stop mistaking a passerby for a homecoming? The dense memory is like the morning fog on the border. I try to see your outline clearly, just like I am confused about the place you secretly occupy in my heart.
The sky is shining brightly at the border and the wind is cold in the snowy area. No matter how far we go, we still cannot escape the call of Huacheng. The imprisoned heart longs for exile. Is it the fulfillment of this life's obsession or the solution of the confusion of thirty years?
One step to meet, one step to acquaintance, one step to know each other, what's the next step?
Trying to make myself believe that many years later, for you, I will just treat you as a name similar to hearsay, and you are nothing to me. It's just that the ancient well accidentally caused trouble again.
There is no need to think about who will continue the fate of sharing the same bed in the next life.
Since love is a life-and-death knot, why bother to untie it?