was so drunk by him that Song settled down in July. His tall figure was in front of him. The night sky was deep and the wind was cold. His handsome Yan was full of her eyes. His eyes were stubborn and serious, and seemed to have to tell too many things.

Suddenly he released his hands and opened them in the wind, facing the Cinnamomum road, he said to her, "Here it is!"

The leaves and branches of the camphor tree were all swaying in the wind, and the petals of the flowers were blown off. Everything was flying in disorder, and his words came together, blinding her eyes....