I turned my back to the sun and looked down at the golden grass under my feet. The grass lengthened its shadow in the setting sun, swaying its head and tail happily with the wind; a grasshopper jumping away from the grass seemed to be showing off the shadow of a monster. The ground where I stood was shining with golden light, without any shadows. Shadow, this old friend who has followed me around for more than ten years has been lost, and I don't know when.
Looking at the backs of my friends, I burst into tears. Unexpectedly, I, Zhao Wen, died at such a young age in Lake Wangyou this summer...
Intention: