Thousands of Years of Rain, Whispers of Thousands of Years

I think back then, when we were separated from the top of the clouds, we picked up flowers and hid them in the sea of ​​sand; look at today, we have been waiting for ten years, and the rain has spoken for thousands of years. Since you have made a ten-year appointment, I am innocent. This is a post-817 retreat story, with the main bottle evil and the secondary black flower, but the plot requires a bit of flower evil. The writing style is joyful, touching, and healing, the writing is undeniably warm, and it is a perfect HE, with the evil emperor mode turned off. Intention: Ten years are like a vast ocean in a blink of an eye, who can pick up the hidden flowers in the sea?