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Half angel, half devil. The familiar is neither an angel nor a demon. Angel with broken wings, are you from the heaven praised by the world? Are you from the terrifying hell? Or are you the devil in the empty world of hell? The flowers have long since turned to dust, and the leaves have become slightly cold in autumn... I have long been unable to smash this shackles, and the ravages in my fate have already left me covered in bruises. I look at the world with cold eyes, and I have long become a ghost on the outside... The hatred in this life will be repeated in the next life. Is it worth exchanging a thousand years of cultivation for a short afterlife? Why should I bear the responsibility for the mistakes committed by others? Why am I the "sacrificial victim" who bears all the sins? Is it an indelible stain in the world? Is it a sin to be born different? Is it wrong? I just want to live and live happily... Is it difficult? I don't want to live this life in vain, I just want to restore my innocence...

The spring rain didn't know how to be stingy, and it continued to rain for several days. It is not as aggressive as summer rain, nor as silky as autumn rain, nor as ethereal as winter rain. It seems to contain the cryptic language of another world, and its arrival changes the appearance of this world. The raindrops fall on the leaves, and the leaves are so green that your eyes are blinded; the raindrops fall on the flower bones, and the flower bones hold up the colorful prism; the raindrops fall on the earth, and the earth exudes the smell of newly turned earth mixed with a bit of grass. Wherever the spring rain passes, it is full of vitality. It is a timely rain that nourishes and nurtures all things. The rain nourishes the dry hearts of the children, like dew, it fades away all the weakness and distracting thoughts, bringing only sweetness. The road of youth is difficult to walk, and walking on this road will leave us covered with scars. We want to find our own happiness, but we end up with bruises all over our body. The deeper and deeper wounds make us exhausted mentally and physically. But so what? We still have to go, and this is the price of growth. Because I have experienced pain, I am young. No pain, no youth. Even if youth hurts, no matter how painful it is, it won't kill you!