My love is like a poppy, gorgeous but full of the breath of death, like blood integrated into the bone marrow, profound but destined to be destroyed together with you. And my life must be as bright as fireworks, but short-lived, like a flash in the pan. "I would like weeping with the smile rather than repenting with the cry." So I was annotated as the Manzhu Shahua blooming in the homeland of the soul, stepping through the cemetery, leaping over the abyss, carrying sadness, and meeting you at the Naihe Bridge.