catastrophe

That year, when we met under the pear blossom tree, if I hadn’t met you, how wonderful it would have been if it was someone whose red clothes were like fire, burning people’s eyes; and whose white clothes were like snow, and the cold people’s fingers were entwined with silver threads, like sympathy Luckily, if I had known it would happen so much.How can I meet you and hope that you are safe, I don’t know if your heart is wrong, I am willing to suppress myself for you, please, don’t hate me But, you are like this, it’s better to kill me and hope for your next life,...