It's the middle of the year, green phosphorus is walking on the ground, and the clouds are humming. Lu Lian was quietly burying his solitary grave, suddenly a ghostly figure suddenly appeared, his silver armor condensed with frost, the green front penetrated the moon, twisting the phosphorus fire and smiling, like a spring willow scorching the night.
It snowed at the beginning of the past year, the moon shadow was sparse, and everything was condensed. Li Tiao has been sitting at the window for a long time, hearing Zhu Lian's pure joy from a distance from Qinlou, and seeing the cold plum blossoms suddenly falling from the branches, his eyes falling, and waves of microwaves rippling.
No brainers, no outlines, just write for fun, just write when you have time, try not to get into trouble
Very feudal, old, unclean
Intention:.