"The heavy rain is like a prison, imprisoning us, them and you."
This is a story written in a small town in the south, which has the brightest sun, the most drenching rain, the most barren land, and the most lush fields.
...
The rain lines intertwined into the chains of the cage. As prisoners, we and they had no idea who was who. We were just struggling in the quagmire, clinging to each other's shoulders, promising to redeem each other.
Concept: Some people are like roses growing on a rainy night. They have been damaged by the rain, but they have not been stained by the mud. They grow in their own way: some forget and suffer, some turn sorrow and resentment into goodwill, some cling to the truth, and some are buried in the past in silence. No matter what, they look forward to the dawn, and they deserve to be embraced tightly by the dawn.