But that person is there.
The surname is Zhao.
One of the seven billion people on earth.
I like calligraphy practice, Hanfu, history, poetry, rainy days, LAMY pens, and all things with a sense of beauty. I like chatting with the people I like. I also like the lush camphor trees outside the classroom, and when the sun sets, the afterglow spreads and meanders in the sky like spilled ink, sprinkling on the leaves that rustle when the wind blows, and the dots falling on the blackboard.
My goals are ambitious, my writing is good, and I am a good person. My grades were once very good, but then they were mediocre. If it is small, it may not be better if it is big.
He has inner demons, is vain and narrow-minded, has hurt many friends around him, and has missed many people worth making friends with.
My ideal career is an archaeologist, but although I am comfortable, I am also trapped in it. In the future, I may become a university teacher.
There are no traces of birds in the sky, but I have flown through.