Listen, the flower of love is blooming.
Perhaps, love is like a flower. The moment it blooms, it is destined to wither.
Perhaps, love is like a flower. After it blooms, only the red remains all over the ground.
Perhaps, love is like a flower, it blooms more than once in a lifetime.
However, some love cannot bloom, let alone wither. It grows quietly in a corner where no one can see it, crying alone.
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A collection of short stories, the setting is very ecstatic, bring your own lightning rod