The red sun sets in the west, filling the sky with wisps of falling orange. Under the setting sun, the wooden path is filled with a blurry style, which makes it look particularly quiet, as if everything in the world is intoxicated in this frozen beauty, silencing all sounds. Tang Sheng lowered his head and whispered in Yang Qingyu's ear: "Dear, listen"
"Huh?"
"I love you."
Intention: intention. .