Don't Listen to the Voices Urging You to Get Out of the Boat. There Are Too Many Boats in the Shallows of Peach Creek.

Ran Xi rarely feels sad about spring and autumn, but after staring at this old sycamore tree for a long time, he actually felt a little sentimental. "No father, no mother, no upbringing." This slander lingers at this moment, and the sky is filled with dark clouds. After a long time, Ran Xi took the first step. The sycamore leaves fell on Mo Wenzhou's shoulders, two or three. He just looked at it quietly, restrained by the wheelchair beneath him. "Don't you know me a long time ago, Mo Wenzhou." The sycamore leaves all over the ground creaked underfoot. "Then how did you find me then?" Just a few steps away, Mo Wenzhou raised his arms, trembling incessantly, like gray-brown branches swaying in the strong wind, so withered, but still standing securely. There was silence all around, and the small snowflakes turned into snow before they even hit the ground. "Mo Wenzhou is the first snow in Wencheng." Intention: Physical shackles or spiritual cocoons are allowed to occur and exist, not seeking perfection, but seeking to continue living.