The world of mortals is indifferent to snow and scattered with flowers.

Flowers bloom on the world of mortals. It seems that after a brief encounter, passers-by in front will become passers-by behind. I know the beauty of the evening breeze. I will pass you by and have no time to look up. Can't say goodbye, the mountains are separated by a river. But on this side of the world, looking back, it was once a drop in the ocean in winter, and the flowers withered. Meet predestined friends, and gradually drift away. So the scenery met. The winter that has been in my mind, no matter how bitter the glacier is. How snowflakes fall, a persistent heart. I've been trying to find it. The dark sky is covered with heavy snow, a warm-blooded teenager. Once the will, but never stopped. From spring to winter. I have been guarding this from the cold winter to the famine. A disappearance that has never been discovered.

-inscription

The world of mortals meets, and the years are old. How many years have passed, and it is subtle to meet each other through the ages. And the sacred thing, in the love of the world of mortals. The former left because of gathering and dispersing, while the latter left because of the former. And deep encounter, someone once said. People who meet by fate. No matter how many times we bypass each other, we will inadvertently. We can meet again, in fact, this story. I'm just saying. Therefore, many people believe it. So as to enter the moment of fate.

There is only a distance between feelings in the world. Some feelings become beautiful because of distance, and some become beautiful because of distance. Encouraging each other will move things forward. Full of sunshine and happiness. Keep each other warm, but sometimes. Distance is really a time machine to verify feelings. So, some people insist. Because I believe I have survived this distance. The rest is the spring breeze, and some people leave because of it, because they believe in the unknown ahead. So I left in a hurry,

Therefore, the years are far away and people are old in the future. Going through a period is to know each other, and going through a year is to intersect. In life, some people walk together. In their youth, some people go separately. At the crossroads where they met, some people. It's gone if you walk. Some strangers. Walking together, I don't know some people yet. Where will we meet and where will we leave early? Life is short, and we cherish each other. Therefore, meeting is fate, and acquaintance is a copy. In life. Time is a feast, and love is a persistence. The snowy moon with the passage of time, years are like water. When a person listens to that song, love is meeting. Falling flowers also gather and disperse. Life is beautiful because of love. Years are occupied by love.

A whole-hearted love, every other night. In a rainy year, I met bamboo leaves. All the way covered with moss, time is like rain. Scattered all over the floor, that scene, Na Yue. Just like the first day, a cold wind blew. Jasper shy breeze, solidified under the moon. Leave the night alone and leave a little peace.

Time is still the same. Once, you said the wind in the rain. It's the dream you once pursued, but it's the snow in winter. It's the flower you once sprinkled. The flower is different. Too loud. Many years later, every time it snows. Will think of that once picture, both beautiful and flying. Sad and silent, a heavy snow. A falling flower, thanks to the breeze, brought my thoughts. Silence solidified the sea. Flowers used to bloom beautifully, and sometimes it rained. Flowers bloom all the way, bodhi all the way. The meeting in this life, the meeting flowers.

After walking, you will always see some scenery. Stay for a while, there will always be some stories left. In fact, many times. We all know that every story has a beautiful ending. It's just that this ending is too vicissitudes and beautiful. Until the last rest, the beautiful people showed sadness. Sadness spreads in sadness, and silence is hidden in sadness. There is always a scene in the years that falls in a casual place. There is always a snow in life, floating in the dead of night, a parting, a fate. A snow. I only hope that time will be fragrant and the flowers will be quiet.

On the road of life, we always come along. The feeling of life is always, together all the way. In this world, there are always people who stay because they understand you, and there are always people who leave because of misunderstanding. We thank those who stayed along the way. Because there is a * * *. So I won't leave, on the road of life. The ferry of the world of mortals. There are always some people who are never very close friends. I don't bother anymore, but I never leave. It's just that time seems to have met. Frozen in the corner between the other shore and this shore, a beautiful spring has been separated from now on.

Some winds in life. Some scenes are always in the years, playing distant stories, and some are fallen leaves. Floating over the branches, flying with the wind, such a season, such a memory. I don't know how long I can show it in the years, but I know that the road I have traveled will definitely leave some unexpected accidents. I will get used to it if I expect more. Life is like this. Time will follow, crossing the ocean of time. Through the silence of the past, I drifted to the end of my own world.

In the fleeting farewell, there are always unspeakable complaints. Standing at the end of my memory, I count the dusk that has passed and tell every season of dusk: in the quiet rain, I always walk alone in the cool wind of ice and rain with one mood or another and feel the different tranquility brought by each season.

A cold wind is blowing. On the world of mortals, scattered in the past.