With their heads hanging down and tears in their eyes, they leaned against each other, their frowns condensing with melancholy that could not be resolved. ——"The peach blossoms are scattered and the ink is still wet"
The grass on the grave swayed in the wind, and I vaguely remembered the silk-like ink hair. ——"The peach blossoms are scattered and the ink is still wet"
The man in the dream was dressed in ink-colored robes, and Mo Zhun's face vaguely appeared in the fog, with picturesque brows and a smile, as gentle as ever. He woke up with a start and looked out the carved window. The white snow was flying freely, falling silently and leaving no trace. ——"The peach blossoms are scattered and the ink is still wet"
Let's start a trap~~~This time the trap is a collection of short stories or novellas~~O(∩_∩)O ~~I can only update the articles every week o(╯□╰)oMy parents are very strict and can only sneak into my electronic device once a week~The author is a science student, please take care of me~~↖(^ω^)↗