In my old dream, I know that time is passing. My dear, are you willing to stop in these years? I love you until the day everything dies. Facing the fragrance that outlasts the scorching sun and submerses the golden color of the rice straw fields, I cross the other side of the West Lake and ask for the desire of my heart. There is a place for you.
Imaginary city=w=
A lot of things are just nonsense =w=