The willows are crowing in the residual frost, and the people facing the wind are independent. Holding hands and looking at each other again, they murmured in deep voices, the setting sun was urgent and the battle was urgent.
However, the storm rose from the ground, and the long arrow shot through the sky. When the flowers fall and the water runs out, the song ends and everyone disperses, I will return to you in the next life.
Conception: