Dedicated to you who never gave up, in memory of you who was once hesitant.
Do you prefer a burning flame, or the ashes left after the flame has just extinguished? I prefer the latter. It no longer radiates blazing heat, leaving only a little residual warmth. The layers of gray and white as thin as paper flakes fly away, leaving only the core of the burned wood, the flowing dark and bright fiery red, like her blood. If you knock it, weak sparks will fly upward. All these are connected into a small piece, which always makes me feel that it seems to be more beautiful than the stars in the sky on a summer night.
With such a mood, the outline of a story was slowly woven in my mind. So, write it out.
Conception: