Begonias in late spring are like snow, falling in the deserted courtyard.
Five years ago, a down-and-out scholar and a romantic piano boy had a secret relationship. Five years later, they met again in court, but they were no longer acquaintances.
The old silver carp swam back into the palm of my hand, and the person in front of me was an old friend from back then. The case is not complicated, but it draws a clear line between the two, making the gap deeper and deeper.
Mistaking lovesickness as evidence of guilt, Wenfeng concluded that the once pure young man had fallen into the dust.
The string of the pipa was broken, the beauty said nothing, and the dim candlelight illuminated the double scars on his heart and body.
Fortunately, the spring breeze is merciful and can continue the broken love; once again, there is a red candle, which illuminates the fallen flowers and blooms again. The unspoken heartfelt songs, the tokens that have never left my body, are lingering, in the fragrant breath of Begonia, facing the remaining five years of my life with my fingers intertwined.
Intention: Optimistic life, brave love