Tossing and turning, the cold evening urges people to return.
Autumn yellow buries golden osmanthus, and night dew moistens and clears the sky.
This kind of coldness and loneliness is not his true intention.
A story about growth and redemption.
The luckiest thing for a person is that when he has given up on himself, someone still reaches out from the light and pulls him out of the quagmire.
A short story stemming from my resentment towards the ending of a game. It doesn't affect my reading even if I haven't played it.
Reader comments
Looking forward to the following plot unfolding soon, mark one
Looking forward to the following plot unfolding soon, mark one
Just update a little bit, I'm not happy