I gained something that was not mine, and I knew I would eventually lose it. Unexpectedly, the apricot blossoms bloomed early that year. You held a folding fan in your hand and asked why there was no painting on it. Your sleeves were painted with beautiful eyebrows and eyes, and there was an empty paper in your heart. You splashed ink and splashed around without realizing that half of the wall was stained. It was just an unlucky timing and you were not born with the ability of an immortal. Even if the ink was spilled on the black pool, you could not describe the slightest charm. It's just that there is not enough fate, and you are too demanding, and you can't wait for it, and you can't expect it. I'm not waiting for anyone, and no one will come.