On a rainy night, Song Yi stood downstairs at Jiang Yuan's house, covered with scars. He didn't know how much the wound was open, and he didn't know how painful it must be, but he didn't seem to care. He cast his penetrating gaze on the window of Jiang Yuan's house and said sarcastically: "Are you interesting, Jiang Yuan?"
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My heart is full of weeds, like a pool of stagnant water blown by the wind.
It's a pity that you don't know that last winter, I prayed to God that there would be no more rumors and no disasters around you.
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I am willing to climb mountains and seas for you, because the wind you stir up only blows once, but I will remember it for the rest of my life.
Intention: written blindly