The heavy snow buried her, all white, please tell me where I am.
No one responded.
Later, he dug me out and brought me back to this nutmeg age.
The youthful specimens carried on the glass piece, in the continuous glory of time, finally migrated into dust floating in the universe, and they gathered into a long river of light.
The four seasons of the world cycle, and the human heart is peeled off to pieces.
The indifferent young man who was stuck in the past raised his hand to wipe away the dust.
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