After finishing the college entrance examination, a year after gradually losing contact, I had a dream one night. I dreamed of Zhang Yu wiping off the moisture on the mirror in a bathroom filled with hookah, and the clear area exposed reflected him leaning over the sink with difficulty. His face was pale and lifeless, and his wet hair was dripping on his bare shoulders, making him look thin and pitiful like a little beast. In the mirror, he had a painful expression, struggling to cry, but somewhere he couldn't see, there was a gap in his spine, and a pair of small silver wings grew out of the gap. It slowly fluttered across a bright color, as if it had a shocking beauty.
Conception: