Ruolan thought, everything was like the beautiful dream she had under the wisteria trellis when she was young. The dream had a lot of content. When she woke up, she couldn't remember the content, and her vest was still sweating. Now she was left with only confusion. The dream was broken, and colorful old pieces floated down. The white ones were her infatuation, and the gardenias were as clean. The white and elegant person is in the clouds, and she can only stand on tiptoe to see; the red one is a mystery, even if the clouds open to see the sun, he is still far away; the blue one is lonely, always quiet, dry and quiet, with eternal persistence... Stretch out your hand, swaying from the fingers, falling on the ground, glittering and translucent...