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Author: Xinsu Is Not a Disease

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The Evening Breeze Meets the Scorching Sun Xinsu Is Not a DiseaseRomance10k WordsOngoing When camphor folds its shadow into folds You carry half a cup of Qingti Oolong cold drink Bumped into my wet paint Coffee-stained manuscript paper The pencil still hangs over the unfinished window Later, stars adorned the strings of lights at the music festival You played the guitar and sang "Evening Star" The strings circled my drawing board three times My hands holding the mineral water became wet with sweat. But I didn't dare to raise my head to receive the starlight you handed me The Boo —Favorites—Clicks/ch—Nutrition