It is obvious that her dream is to grow up neither salty nor bland, find a man who is neither beautiful nor ugly, have a few ordinary children, and live an ordinary life.
It's okay, it's good to raise flowers, plant grass, play with birds, walk dogs, and touch men.
However, I was born in troubled times, with evildoers running rampant.
And that kind of man is like an ink painting with light strokes, so light that he almost wants to disappear into the misty wind and rain of the mountains and rivers. Holding a book, brewing a pot of wine, listening to the sound of rain all night, and watching catkins flying all over the city, he stood quietly at the other end of the years, at the end of the colorful scene. So, in the vast road of floating life, with tired eyes like smoke, it was him.
PS: The author loves to revise his articles, and this is not a fake update.