Would you like to read this love poem?
Han Ciqian was such a sentimental girl. When she was a hot and bright age, she met an equally beautiful young man, Wen Hai.
Then, the seeds began to germinate, stretch, form buds, bloom, and wither.
There was no more redemption, nor tears streaming down her face. She clasped her hands together, and in the autumn, the gentle wind stirred up her hair.
Intention: growth
