Everything is just like the red maple leaves scattered all over the sky.
Bud, brilliant, withered.
After one season of flowering, they fall safely into the embrace of the earth, only to be reborn in the next season.
Everything is as it should be.
In fact, as long as you turn around, you can see him.
But as proud as he is, he absolutely refuses to look back.
The grass is no longer withered, and the willows are broken and forgotten. I shed tears of red peony root, hoping that you will return.
This resulted in a destined tragedy.
Conception: