NP. ． ． Those as pure as narcissus should not enter. ． ．
An Weiran. Simple in appearance, the flowers of the motherland are still the bright red ones
Today, this flower of the motherland seems to have been splashed with sulfuric acid, scratched by broken shoes, and bitten by insects, revealing its ugly roots hidden under the gray and black soil.
"I'm done"
An Weiran stood at the door of the train station and looked at his beautiful and lovely lover and thought so.