Recalling the plank road in Qingxiang, I caught a glimpse of a beautiful woman playing the piano under the white plum tree, the golden sound was still there, and it suddenly turned into a gorgeous nightmare...
It wasn't until the warm blood stained his eyes that he realized that the so-called persistence for many years was nothing but a mirror, and what he could trace back was still a little bit of warmth...
The wind blows lightly and the face of Luoshen is written. It should be noted that a smile is a deep frequency. It is a very beautiful and pitiful spring...
Cover up the coldness and provide soft barriers, hold on to the slender shadow and the fragrant leaves, and fail to accidentally release the fragrant dust...