This is the city of mourning,
A city filled with death and fear,
A delicate flower blooms in the center of the city,
Its name is Shangcheng.
My name is Shangcheng, right?
Perhaps the name represents my lifelong association with destruction and death.
The voice of the city of mourning opens its mouth to sing,
Like the soft wind blowing from the nine heavens,
The world, whether it is destroyed or beautiful,
It has nothing to do with me,
However, no one can understand, and no one will ever understand.
Like quicksand in the desert,
The whole city wants to make a final struggle,
But he fell deeper and deeper. I smiled, "Okay, let everything start again. It starts to point to the end, and when I meet the bearer and say goodbye, the bloom is destined to fail. But when some people break into my shallow life from the far shore, all black and white are turned upside down, and all truth becomes lies."