He took off one, but the potato chips still didn't come. He should be eating hot pot with Xueer. The hot pot is very warm and fragrant, bad potato chips!
The corners of my eyes were moist, but I didn't cry, no! It's just that damn wind that fogged up my eyes. I won't cry!
The ground is so cold! Every step is so painful, why don't those damn potato chips come? I want to eat hot pot, fragrant hot pot.
I was already lying on the railing by the river, ready to climb over.
A familiar voice approached, and a pair of warm hands lifted me off the railing.
Familiar eyes, familiar breathing, familiar shouts.
Conception: