The white tower in Beihai, the attic at the end of the alley, the winding alleys, every green tile, every red brick.
"Liang Yuheng, before I met you, Beijing to me was just a place that tolerated all pursuits. But it's different now. I fell in love with Beijing because there is a person named Liang Yuheng here."
Twenty-year-old Lu Cheng happily ran towards Liang Yuheng who was leaning against the car and smoking.
Liang Yuheng laughed softly, hurriedly removed the hand holding the cigarette, clasped Lu Cheng's waist with one hand, and whispered in her ear: "Fool, if there is someone named Liang Yuheng in Hong Kong, do you still want to fall in love with Hong Kong again?"
During the three years they were together, he doted on her, but he never mentioned love.
Oranges on the horizon hang at dusk.
The wind in June is hidden in the writing.
I see stars in the sea, and I am also waiting for the dusty love.
——-2017.6.10
One last look
The same night sky so close to you,
In the days to come, if possible
Just quit smoking.
In my poems
No more you.
————2020.11.29
Concept: Mixed with the temperature of tears, love burning with heat may be the most primitive faith