Su was seventy-six years old that year. His small stature and slender body seemed to be no match for the autumn wind in Yuli. The dead leaves of the tung tree covered the yard, covered Su Yu's paintings, and stuck to Su Qi's long ponytail. The benches in the park were covered with yellowing dead leaves, and the piles of dead leaves underfoot were so high that they seemed to swallow Su Qi up. It will be seven years soon, and Su Yu feels empty in his heart. He also knows that everything now is just paving the way for that man, and in the end, he has to give it all up. The child behind him obviously has no blood relationship with him, but his eyebrows are so similar to his own. Probably, I owed some kind of debt to the Zhang family and the Bai family in my previous life, and I would have to pay it back sooner or later.
The plane stopped and landed, and the lights on the runway looked particularly lonely. I haven't been back to this city for seven years. Is it my own cowardice or my guilt for her? He didn't know that he slowly took off the headphones he was wearing and stared at the dim light outside the window, feeling a little sad. I don't know how she has been doing these past years. I haven't contacted her in seven years. Seven years...
If you like it, please collect it
Slow down and be more careful.