I was trapped in a gentle midsummer, where the wind was gentle, blowing the girl's hair, a dream that was out of my reach.
"We are born with shackles on our backs, and the chains lead to the holy heaven, so no matter how we struggle and resist, the result is to disappear into the atmosphere and become nothingness."
"Yu Xinun, I miss you."
Be short story
I express my love for you in messy descriptions, but my word order is chaotic, and you are nowhere to be found.
Intention: Born toward the sun
