During the rainy season, flowers are floating in the air, misty kites are colorful, the moon fills the mountains and fields, and the evening wind blows. I have been walking alone in the alleyway in despair, the night has fallen, and it is hazy. The red building looks cold across the rain, and the bead-foil floating lantern returns alone. Staring blankly at the ink sky, far away, the moon is smoky and the stars are lonely. My mind is full of worries and my thoughts are confused. Plowing through a river of thoughts, there is a vast ocean in my heart. The wind is light and the clouds are light, the wind is strong and the clouds are scattered, the turbulent depression is boiling and freezing, strands and strands are unbroken, peeling off the cocoon, like a butterfly.
She lives up to her name. Childhood: Fresh Youth: Cold Youth: Quiet Life is as calm as a mirror in the water, not wanting to be disturbed, laughing with all living beings as usual, but feeling lonely inside. Although he is friendly to others, he still makes people feel alienated. I feel helpless when many people call me "cold and arrogant". Even if I pay more attention to my words and deeds, it still fails, and then I give up, feeling confused and confused in the face of the current situation.
If I hadn't received that letter, if I hadn't started writing on impulse, if I hadn't moved and transferred to another school, if there hadn't been those bright and fragrant lilacs, if I hadn't been so close, if... Maybe... Everything wouldn't be what it is now, right? The thick pure black eyelashes are like fans, fluttering, and the bright eyes are shining with stars of wisdom, gradually revealing a mocking look, and chuckle: Existence must be meaningful, why bother?