1. Remaining life offering wine, lifting skirts in the night breeze, holding the breeze alone, mourning the remaining snow, the last drop of tears, the rain hitting the flowers, confronting me with my dead father, it is inevitable that I will die, I wish I deserve it, Without you, I regard crying as laughter. There used to be no Xiaoxin in the crayon.
2. He who I love loves her. There is a kind of love called letting go, laughing unrestrainedly, covering up sorrow. You are tired of acting and I am tired of watching. Love has become a sigh. Is the beauty covered with bruises? Looking back at the unbearable passing years, the beauty is still haggard with heavy makeup, forcing a smile on her face, saying goodbye and never seeing her again.