We have made a promise for three lives, but we always miss it again and again. Why do we always understand it at the end? It's already too late.
Propositional composition, a short story of 8,000 words, put it up and try it out. If anyone is interested, I will write it into a long one. (Actually, the outline has already been drawn up, hahahaha)
Another note: I finally finished the second half of "You Are Always Here" and filled in all the pitfalls. From birth to death, it is now complete. Anyone who is interested is welcome to come and make bricks, don't be afraid!
Conception: