Qiao Qingdai died, falling quietly to the ground like a feather.
There was no moon the night she left, and a thick gloom covered the night sky, making people breathless. Her mobile phone fell on the edge of the rooftop, and it showed that there was still one missed call, signed "Song Zhixia". As the hand electronic fluorescence went out, this cold night ushered in the heaviest rainstorm. The cold wave in early winter is like a sharp knife, cutting through the last layer of warmth barrier in the golden autumn.
Concept: Sometimes, living people suffer more.