Qianchen is my best friend. She disappeared in a mist when she was twelve years old. I didn't expect that nine years later, she would actually come back. In a small coffee shop, she told me about her experiences in the past nine years. It may sound ridiculous, but it also has a different flavor~
The fragrance of the jade stove and the tears of red wax illuminate the autumn thoughts in the painting hall. The eyebrows are green and thin, the temples are cloudy, and the night is long and the pillow is cold. The sycamore tree and the rain in the middle of the night show the bitterness of separation and love. Leaf by leaf, sound by sound, the air drips into the sky.
Qian Chen was lying in front of the window, listening carefully to the sound of rain beating on the sycamore leaves outside the window, covering his head in deep thought. Old things gradually came to mind, and bursts of tears flashed...