Copywriting
There is a god in the sacred mountain. When he disappeared, he was reborn as a new member of the infinite stream copy.
He is indescribably holy, and every inch of his body that his eyes touch is as beautiful as a treasure, and his warm bones and blood are quietly flowing with fragrance.
He controls everything, his brilliance is boundless, and he spreads over the Jiuquan Yinsi with mercy like he is protecting the territory of the dynasty.
But as a human, he is so weak that one finger can easily crush him.
I want to see him fall into the abyss, crying so hard that he can't breathe, his whole body covered with dirt, sadness and despair.
The filthy things yearn for it like crazy, put on human skin, and come to the place where the fragrance is permeated.
In the novice copy, I broke the rules and fell from the roof.
Countless distorted images intertwined with long black mourning. He fell into the shackles of the strong arms, dizzy, buzzing, cold sweat all over his body, and the pain made it difficult to breathe.
Following his character, he didn't have the strength to break away and wished to be hugged tighter, "... Thank you for saving me."
The other party repeated his words playfully and chuckled.
From that day on, filth became the light upon which the gods depended.
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Purpose: Cherish life