The glass of the intensive care unit reflects two dead souls of midsummer.
He Li counted his fading soul, folded his memories into butterflies and put them into Wu You's ventilator.
When the seventh restraint cut through the dusk, she saw her funeral dissolving in the rain——
The father kicked the cicada can into the sewer, the mother wrapped the urn in a wedding dress, and Wu You was peeling off the glowing cocoon from her collarbone.
When ECG becomes the longest Morse code
When forgetfulness becomes the last pain pump
When two girls share the same lightning scar
I will flap my wings for the seventh time,
Turn the rainy season in your dreams into amber.
Purpose: You must have a good memory