A Woman's Story

One hundred years of life, half of it is like a dream. How much do you know about the flowers falling in the dream? Be it love or hate, the past is like a cloud of smoke, and a hundred things will be over once a person dies. Can it really be over once and for all? The storm disappeared, and the sorrow of separation also escaped. Looking at that intoxicating face, she shed heartbroken tears. That's called love, but it's also called reluctance, and it's even more unbearable and helpless. Now that they have met, they have not given her a complete marriage. Finally, I had no choice but to "leave". Looking at the face that had "flashed" in my mind so many times, and thinking of the past, I finally said a word to him: "I never want to meet you again in the next life, just because you and I work too hard. Our love is like the dead leaves in autumn, although it is beautiful , but it was only a moment, when the fallen leaves fell, that beautiful moment also carried that quiet death. Song Qiu, I hate you, I hate that you gave me the past, but did not give me the future..." Touching the man's young face, the face that he had kissed and loved, he finally closed his eyes.