The flowers bloom on the other shore, and by the River of Forgetfulness, one gazes toward the river. At the Bridge of Helplessness, all is helpless; upon the Stone of Three Lives, three lifetimes are inscribed.
Listen as the strings snap, severing three thousand lovesick thoughts. Falling petals sink, burying the ripples of a single day. If the flowers could feel pity, whose fingertips would they fall upon?
In the peach blossom grove, I stood amid the brilliant blossoms, letting the petals brush against my face. My gaze rested on the depths of the grove, where a streak of purple made me almost think I was dreaming. When he turned around, the breeze lifted his ink-black hair. His heavenly face was incomparable, and the corners of his almost-smiling lips curved into an arc. At that moment, I saw only him, and he saw only me...
Perhaps, in that moment, my heart already belonged to him.
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Very well written. Looking forward to the next update