The paper is a little worn and blurry. But every stroke and every trace seems to record thoughts that span thousands of years.
Holding the old man in hand, imprisoning time and space, suddenly reaching the end of the world
Look at the sky, the earth, the sun and the moon, they are silent and silent; the green mountains and long rivers stretch from generation to generation; just like in my heart, you have never left or changed.
I miss you, host.
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Don't be fooled by the copywriting
The author is just a scumbag