The sunset was about to fade, and the sky above the head was silently splashed into gorgeous silk and satin. At a few o'clock, the flying swans returned to their nests with mud in their mouths. In Shen Yiqing's hazy eyes, they flew farther and farther away, like ink spots.
"At dusk, it should be called the most beautiful scene in the world."
He leaned crookedly on the south-facing verandah of his home, his slender jade-like knuckles bent, and an empty medicine bottle rolled out from Shen Yiqing's sleeve.
Finally, the young man's head hung down with no strength, and his whole body fell to the ground.
…
At the same time, the gloomy cannon fodder in a novel opened his eyes on his bed.
The gentle voice of the system sounded in my mind: Welcome here.
Attack the system / when
Feeling is Shen Yiqing.
Intention: Live well and wait for the right person
