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One day when I was holding a vine, I first woke up from a kiss in the village in the city. A little morning light came in from the window, and clothes were drying on the windowsill, blowing in the morning breeze, and casting swaying flower shadows on the porcelain floor. Lian Teng sleeps on the lower bunk of the bunk bed, which is covered with cotton sheets with bright peonies and phoenixes, chrysanthemums stuffed into the cloth pillows, and a thin blue flower quilt that is so old and tattered. This set of bedding was brought from home and has been used for so many years. I lay down next to an old cotton cloth and fell asleep. When I wake up, I feel at ease and particularly attached. Because it will be night again when I see this set of mattresses. The people inside got up early and were all in a hurry, washing up and heating breakfast in the kitchen. Lian Teng quickly went to the bathroom to get a basin of water, washed up, took out a comb from under the pillow, quickly combed her hair, applied some facial cream, straightened the bed, and went out loudly.

The first time he broke into her life, he brought the breath of wind and snow to her face, attacking and cold. The first thing that came into her sight was the TV station he worked for, which had a satellite signal in a small town in Changbai Mountain in the northeast. Hong Kong, where they work, is like a legend to the small town in Changbai Mountain where she lives, a distant, charming, puzzling and colorful legend. She, a girl at the foot of Changbai Mountain, was born in the small town lovingly guarded by Changbai Mountain, went to primary school and middle school, and gradually grew into an obedient girl with tall head, long black hair, white skin, round face, and big eyes. Her eyes are unique to Pisces people. They are dark and watery, with clear black and white. When she smiles, the smile in her eyes is like a small fish swimming, and you can see the splashing water.

Yuyu curled up in a ball on the floor, like a small animal that had been shot through by a bow and arrow. She was trembling all over. She stretched out her hands, covered her face, and let out a sharp scream of pain. It was a straight scream with no syllables, no ups and downs, and extended from one end of her life, as if sharp scissors were cutting a long piece of cloth head-on. It broke sharply all the way to her throat. In his whole life, Han Bo had never heard such desolate, desperate, injured, and painful screams. It was so broken that it made people feel that there was nothing left to do but to die - it would be better to die.