I think he was a killer during the years of the Republic of China.
Not a businessman, not a waiter, but a killer.
His name is Li Nanzi. He likes this profession, living in symbiosis with souls and associating with the devil. I never know what love is and what hate is.
He only knew that nothing could be a shackle that restricted his freedom.
He fantasizes about being able to do something earth-shattering one day.
But that is just a fantasy after all. After the passion has passed, I still put away my fantasy of the end of the world, and then spend my time in the streets and willow alleys.
I think that during the years of the Republic of China, she was a flower slave.
Not a doctor, not a shopkeeper, but a flower slave.
Her name is Su Xue.
If the Yellow River hadn't overflowed, if the water hadn't flooded the Jinshan Mountains, she wouldn't have wandered here.
In this hot summer in the early years of the Republic of China, I was searching and searching, and the dust was everywhere.
The first time I wrote an article, I didn't understand anything. . . .