Rose, Rose

"If possible, I would like to plant the yard full of roses: red, blue, white... All kinds of roses." Chen Fang imagined this countless times. However, Chen Fang found that the world was sick. The bright red roses are not all about pure love. That touch of red is full of greedy desire and indulgent sex. The thorns on the vine are stained with the blood and tears of the infatuated, and pierce the hearts of the pious. Chen Fang also fell ill and fell ill among the rose bushes. "Maybe this is normal," he muttered.