The Rain Will Never Come Back

The love between life and death is written with life as paper and blood and tears as ink. When he was lying on his sickbed, he coughed up the promise on the iris petals; On a rainy night at a hot pot restaurant, she clutched her bloody wedding ring and knelt down begging for redemption; When the blade of domestic violence pierced love and the disease gnawed at the remaining body again, he died and engraved the last words on the tombstone of the joint burial: "This time, let me be your eternal spring mud."