Dawuzhou has been desolate for hundreds of years and has become a natural danger. People have left and come, and now there are only a few hundred households left. Tianjie Inn is the only inn in Dawuzhou. No one remembers how long Tianjie Inn has been open. They only remember that one day, the Tianjie door was wide open, and Su Ruyi was leaning on the railing on the second floor. She was wearing a red shirt, and the ribbons were fluttering in the dry wind of the Gobi, mixed with sand and soil. She was holding the wine in one hand, facing the wind with the other, and humming a tune that had never sounded in Dawuzhou. This is where it all begins.
Intention: Could it be that one morning in the morning, you have been pretending to wait for a long time just to meet me at the corner of the intersection.