The gray mud-brick house, half sunken into the ground, was lifeless.
The young man sat at the door, leaning on the sunlight that broke in mid-air.
Everything is very much like that inexplicable, unexplainable, always fragmented past time.
The mottled green tree shadows make everything in the town obscure and difficult to understand.
Cypress trees, white walls.
For everyone here, they are the most fragile and fragile existence. But he straightened his waist again.
Every word that comes out of your mouth, every breath of heat that comes out of your mouth. They were all frozen into pieces in the winter air and turned into volcanic ash.
There are not many outsiders here. Because this is an inconspicuous existence. Like all places, it carries the joys, sorrows and joys of generations. At the same time, he also shares everything with these people.
The people in the town burst into powerful punches one after another in the calm. Then, like a flying mosquito, it pounced on the electric light. The light flickered. Flying Mosquito looked at the white light in front of him and swayed, feeling that he had everything.
Teenagers are like this, everyone is like this.
His name is Ji Qiao.
His name is Wu Zhou.
(I wrote it when I was in seventh grade to practice writing. It may not be updated after I write it. The introduction does not represent the actual level of this article and the content I want to express, just simple love)
Mission: Simple life, simple love