Oiran Liulihua sat in front of the open window, looking at the lights of Flower Street.
The colorful circular light spots are like twisted pure white starlight, shattered by a hand in the sky. They are not anywhere in the world, but only scattered all over this flower street, blowing a trace of wine-scented comfort to the lonely and empty people who are still wandering on this street at two o'clock in the middle of the night.
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CP Weasel, adult-oriented, stream of consciousness
Intention: some stream of consciousness experiments
