She is like a fragile porcelain doll, releasing her beauty in the thorn bushes, and her eyes are dripping with blood; the little silkworm called dream spins out thick silk, weaves a big net, and covers her tightly; unable to breathe, unable to move, staring at her own death in a gorgeous dream...
Concept: Human youth is full of regrets. Wherever the thorns go, delicate flowers bloom with blood...