I once buried a boundary monument on a separate mountain pass, and the neat inscriptions engraved the entangled right and wrong. Ordinary young people are waiting for the laurel from the Toad Palace. The mountains are covered with heavy snow, and I am a wildcat.
I once added another chapter at the end of the story, and the redundant strokes replaced the old dream and returned. The heavy rain in the full moon has helped the rivers flowing around the city, the towers and pines are evergreen, and the vegetation is lush.
In my eyes, there is a cluster of roses that are always blooming and never fade. Their branches and leaves are planted around the lonely mountain. Passionate eyes looked across the desolate and cold north of the Great Wall, where the lakes and seas were dim and the distant mountains were towering.
There is a private brew in my heart that I have been obsessed with for three years, and the cobalt blue school uniforms are lined up. The long-lost scorching sun shines into the dusty image, making the colors bright and vivid as usual.