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The Painting of the Bone Demon on the Other Side of the Apocalypse
Cold Painted CandleXianxia Romance234k Wordscompleted
On the road of mortal world, only the shadow leans toward someone. Who can remember when the voiceless fingers are cold? The leaves are folded and outlined, looking for you once, and withered. Pulling the core to burn the soul, leaving me alone, will be annihilated. The purple shirt is swaying, the pen and ink are stiff, the light clouds are shaking without being surprised, and the sleeves are hidden, relieving the sorrow, a few lines of poems, passing by the cold moon are just wind and frost
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