Miss Ling's Rose Flowers

Seven years is not a long time, but is it short? Then you might be a werewolf who could live for thousands of years. Seven years ago, when Ling Zichen met that man, he was sixteen years old in his prime. That year, during the Spring Festival, people had not scratched their bald heads for a tormenting Fuca goblin; that year, there were not hordes of little yellow cars lining the streets; that year, God did not want to hear stories about martial arts and Disney, nor did he want to study physics; that year, there was only a three-day holiday on May Day... Ah, correction, for Ling Zichen it is two days. But that year, she met people and things that had moved her heart so much. Under the weight of Wusan Huanggang, the wanton sweat, the sweet and bitter tears, the only indulgence... Like rain, like snow, watered the blooming rose. "Youth is like a rose." "Strong, beautiful and fragrant?" "... Can you say that?" Youth is like a rose flower. One season for a lifetime, one season for a lifetime.