That summer the sycamore trees grew wildly.
The sound of the piano lingering on your fingertips cannot bring back the accompanying memories.
When Qin Minhan saw Zhao Sixie for the first time, he felt that he couldn't see through it. The closer he got, the more confused he became. Why did it seem so transparent to embrace each other.
Mermaids in the water always turn into foam before the sun rises.
Staring by the window, the washing machine kept spinning, the coldness of his arms resting on the railing, and the deep eyes of the man under the mottled shadow of the trees, overwhelmed him until he woke up, dripping with cold sweat and crying.
I would like to write this book to commemorate the coming summer.
Intention: Why should we meet before?