The sunshine is fresh and not dry, and the breeze blows through the forest tops. Dragonflies touch the water and catkins flutter. The ups and downs of the past life are like a dream, the wood outside the window has become pine, and passers-by do not ask about their thoughts. When I am old, I will hold my pen and ink again and roll it into the moon. Where can I go?
I only wish that you are stable now and have a smile as beautiful as your face; if you are lucky in this life, you can talk about flowers and make the moon shine, and we can have a drunken dream together, and the years will pass by like a fleeting time. I just sigh that the singing on the street is melodious and the echoes pass by. There are colorful reflections among the trees. After crossing thousands of rivers and mountains, we arrived in Changbai. Our time stopped at yesterday.
——A message from the author
●This work is a volume of the novel of the same name "I Only Wait for You for Twenty-Five Years"
●This work is derived from diary essays. Any similarity is purely accidental.
●This work comes from the author's personal experience. Please forgive me if the complaints and any negative emotions in the article interfere with your reading quality.
●It is expected that this work will be followed by prose works such as "Yiren·Series" and "Xingzhuo·Series", which will cause trouble for everyone.
Intention: None yet