Standing in the dangerous building, the wind is blowing softly, looking at the spring sorrow, the sky is gloomy. In the grass-colored smoke and the lingering light, who can lean on the fence without saying anything?
I plan to get drunk with the madness, and sing to the wine, and the strong music is still tasteless. The belt becomes wider and wider, but I don't regret it anymore. I feel haggard because of the beauty. ––Liu Yong's "Butterfly Loves Flowers"
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Everything around him became increasingly blurry. He fell into the sea of fire, looked up and watched the sunset stain the sky.
In the distance, a heart-rending cry sounded, and it sounded like it was his name.
Wolf smoke covers the sky, and fire and phoenix start a prairie fire.
There were sparks curling up on the hem of his clothes, blooming into enchanting blood-colored flowers, soft and charming to the bone, and extremely strange.
He stood among the fire, looking back with some reluctance and nostalgia, just to take one last look at that person.
Don't ask for obsessiveness, don't ask for affection.
I only hope that in the next life, I will always remember his face.
---In the last moment of beauty, he saw eternity.