Everything is silent, and fatigue finally begins to attack us. Tired Wang Hua began to sink into my arms and sleep happily. I covered the quilt and kissed the goddess in my sleep. A short message came into my cell phone, I took it to see: in those singing years, why are you so hard-hearted, leaving me alone to stay in those desolate youth, fingertips circulation, like a wounded year. Nowadays, the night song is like a dream of flowers, who will be remembered, who forgot, who hurt, who left. Only the memory as miserable as the mottled years, I walk alone, lost in the sky, far and out of...