"Shen Zhongqing, this is the last time I call you this."
Tang Zhongqing grabbed Shao Cheng's shadow, but failed to grab her hand.
The roses in the backyard were in full bloom, and Tang Zhongqing came to the backyard alone holding Yin.
She picked up a rose that had fallen to the ground and put it into the flower basket. Not a single rose should be missing. "Shao Cheng, the roses have bloomed again." Tang Zhongqing's voice was hoarse, low and soothing with a hint of ethereal and distant feeling. "Yesterday's sunset was also beautiful, just like that day seven years ago."
On May 24, seven years ago, Shao Cheng gave Tang Zhongqing two roses he liked. "I think roses are the most representative flowers in the world. The colors are different but they all have profound meanings." A blue rose and a yellow rose.
Seven years later, on May 24th, there was only one cat and one person left in the sunset, sitting on the beach blowing the sea breeze. It's a pity that she will never hear that sentence in her ears again: Let's paint a picture.
"Xiaoyin, why do the yellow roses that Shao Cheng gave me wither faster than the blue roses?"
"Tell me, when will she come back?"
That night, Shao Cheng called Tang Zhongqing and said, "Make the roses into specimens and put them in the room."
"Do you want to make specimens of both?" There was silence on the other end of the phone for a while, "Blue roses."
Intention: Please stop and appreciate the sunset that is far away in the horizon but right in front of you, otherwise you will shed tears if you cannot see it in the future.