Library

I want to record my past feelings in poetry. The past will follow the wind, like a dream or an illusion, and I will no longer miss or pursue it. The past is past, no matter you make trouble or no matter what you think, the past will only become a memory. (Modern poetry, prose, novels, etc. Will be included)

A pair of black eyes were captivating, looking at the angry husband in front of him, he raised the corners of his lips indifferently: "What's the matter, you are the only one who has a lot of things to do, look at Zijun, you never bother me with these things." When the man opposite heard this, the corner of his mouth twitched, and his handsome face, full of grievances that made people and gods angry, appeared...