"If it's winter
Crush the orange-red green fields in winter. "
That day, Wen Xuan exchanged a song for a cigarette. Listening to the manic drumming on his headphones, the hand he wanted to hold the cigarette inexplicably felt so sexy. The butt of the cigarette was still shining scarlet. Cheng Qi shook it and the ashes fell to the ground, seeming to fall on Wen Xuan's heart.
We watched fireworks together, had a crazy tutoring week, and flew her across most of the city on a motorcycle. Her tears followed the wind, and her heart pounded faster than when she was sitting on the stair railing and slid down and bumped into Cheng Qi's arms.
We broke up several times on bad terms.
Two people are competing against each other, and no one can control the other.
The birthmark under Wen Xuan's left eye was like a split fire. She is like a wild flower in the long night, always secretly in love with herself, like the whirlpools and sharks already existing in the depths of the rippleless sea, like a hot rose, always enjoying the storm.
Cheng Qin's eyebrows are good, and he is affectionate to everyone he looks at. He indulges in no restraint, like a river in a complicated environment in the mountains, like a sangger standing tall in the cold plains, like a lonely wolf, wanton and uninhibited.
"Grandpa, is there a place for freedom?"
"Freedom."
"But where am I?"
"Wherever your heart goes, you are yourself."
When they met again later, he circled her into a tight corner, his senses revealed and his breath lingering.
"Want to drink? Or take a nap?"
His breath sprayed against his ears, as if wrapped in countless hands, numbing and numbing.
"You can also sleep with me after you finish drinking..."
That year we were far more passionate than the retelling.
Concept: The wind is blowing so hard, Kui Chuan paints, a piece of roses dance wantonly and grow wildly.
