Spring wine
A drop of watermelon juice fell on the wooden round table, and a slender green-white hand slowly wiped it away with the tablecloth. It was clean and tidy, like a young man wearing a white shirt, with an upright temperament and youthful youth.
Similar to the rapeseed flowers on the street corner surrounded by bees and butterflies, the place where the young man was was seemed to be full of poetry and painting. He slightly raised the corners of his lips, as if flowers were blooming all over the mountains and plains, bright and moving, flowing all over the city.
It's sweet in the early stage, but turns dark in the later stage. Love is sweet. It can conquer your country, but it can also kill you without bloodshed.