The wind of that day disturbed the spring, summer, autumn and winter of dozens of years, and also wrinkled the calm river of lovesickness. The ripples were full of waves, shining with a gorgeous rainbow. In a clear heart, the water droplets and roses suspended in life finally dropped into the rhyme of love, like a bell in the breeze, ringing through the heaven of holy love.
Longing spreads like a lingering fog, and the lingering fog never fades away in the quiet and simple days.
The heart-trembling red rose, the distant and unforgettable eyes, the phone number flashing on the edge of the dream, the bitterness and concern that can never be dialed, like a bit of cinnabar between the eyebrows, like the out-of-print beauty and endless sadness of a red rose in the heart.