The desert is windy and dusty, the sun is dim, and the red flag is half-rolled out of the camp gate.
As far as the eye can see, the sand is calmly rippling with waves, and the gentle waves are rushing towards the face of the blood-red sunset one after another.
Just like the dancing women in light clothes on the murals, the clouds at this time are elegant and soft, but they are as if they are full of blood. They are so red, gorgeous and dangerous.
Him and him
Will it
They belong to each other Manzhu Shahua...