It was raining outside the window at night, and you could always hear the soft sound of raindrops hitting the window. Li Qing folded his arms and wore velvet cotton pajamas, which could not block the cold night. His lonely figure stood at the floor-to-ceiling window and stared blankly at the dim lights of the street, the chaotic figures, and another patch of colorful sky held up by the umbrella.
The smoke rings floated up, intertwined with the constant sorrow, and the fantasy and intoxication caused by nicotine for a second or two were immediately withdrawn from reality. Bai Ze was sitting lazily on the sofa under the dim light. There were piles of cigarette butts and the choking smell filled the room. The man squinted and looked at an unknown place in front of him, either a white wall or an oil painting called art.
The night passes through the fingers silently, quietly wetting the toes. Who is crying and worrying all night long.
Walking north towards the port, the imprisoned love will eventually be thrown into the sea.
Intention: flashy