It's hard to imagine that he's back here again, the place where he met her.

Don Quixote wandered aimlessly through this quiet, peaceful town, his eyes lingering around every corner, hoping to find the corner that once belonged to her and him.

But it backfired, all he could see was the desolation and depression after the autumn wind, the sadness and sorrow, the scattered houses, and the mottled walls, leaving the mark of year after year.

He was greeted by a group of knights in full costume, all of whom were unfamiliar faces he had never seen before, presumably, immature and full of enthusiasm.

Passing by, the memories of the enthusiastic, noisy, and youthful recruits with their faces written all over him came flooding back into his heart.

Obviously, he had just started his long life, but he had to wave the sword in his hand, look at his comrades beside him weakly, and sleep forever.

The traces left by the war may be repaired, but how can the deep rifts left in people's hearts be stitched up?

The late autumn dusk always comes quickly, and before the water vapor evaporated by the sunlight clears the mountains, the sun sets into the western mountains.

So, the wind in the valley carried a heavy coolness, drove away the white mist, and swung down the mountain, and the shadow of the mountain peak, more quickly overwhelmed the town, and the shadow became thicker and thicker, gradually blending with the night, but before long, it was turned silver-gray by the moon candle.

In the moonlight, Don Quixote returned to the flower shop again.

The flower shop has long since become dilapidated due to time, the walls are crawling with moss, and the dilapidated wooden doors have long since become a nest for some insects.

Gently pushing away the decayed dead wood full of life, the smell of decay in the house greeted me, the flowers had long lost their splendor, and if there was a wind, it would definitely drift away with the wind, instead of leaving only a pile of remains like ashes left over from burning dead wood.

On the windowsill, the ice cream flower she had planted with great hope was only a dead silence, and in contrast, even the cobwebs were shining with the brilliance of life, and when he brushed it away, he suddenly felt that he had nothing to do, but it was clear that the strong rancid smell of the water tank in the corner was calling for the rest of the work.

He walked slowly into the darkness, unfamiliar but unfamiliar, and he turned and fell straight onto the dusty bed.

The unspeakable cold, silently caressing his skin, in order to evoke his sad memories.

In his sleep, he seemed to feel her warmth again, but he understood that in a moment, it would disappear in an instant, and then he realized that tears could really linger, and heaven could not smile at me as much as you.

When I woke up again, it was noon the next day, and I don't know when, my body was wrapped in a warm quilt, and I didn't know who had cleaned it up with the dust that had witnessed the passage of time.

Confused, he lifted the quilt and sat up slowly, only to find Anne Bell walking towards him with a warm meal: "I think you must be hungry, dear." ”

"Mother, why are you here? Asking, Don Quixote raised his hand to take the porcelain bowl that radiated warmth.

However, Annebel did not answer, but raised her hand and rubbed Don Quixote's head: "Do you know? ”

After saying that, she turned and left, she understood that this kind of pain could not be soothed by a warm embrace, maybe time could, but it would take a long, long time.

As a politician standing on the high ground, she has too many things to deal with, even the time spent with her favorite son, it is only barely obtained.

However, this was a bitter pain for Alviser, who not only had to take over all the work of Anne Bell, but also worried about his son from a distance.

These must have been the most anxious days of his life, even more anxious than when he was besieged by the orc army with less than a thousand knights left around him.

It's not that I don't care, but I really can't do it, and it takes too much energy and too much energy to maintain the status of the Alepus family.

In the east, the Kutler Col reflects the blue horizon and shows its dark shadow, and the dazzling morning star hangs on the top of the hill as if it were a soul flying out of the dark mountain field.

The dawn gradually revealed a touch of red, the newborn sun revealed the first ray, the streets were damp with the smell of dew, the shadows of the trees gradually faded, the stars gradually decreased, and the sky gradually became clearer.

Even though she was worried, Anne Bell couldn't stay too long after all, but before leaving, she didn't forget to buy all the daily necessities for Don Quixote, speaking of which, Anne Bell had never done these things herself, although it was extremely clumsy, but fortunately she still completed the task.

In the warm embrace of her mother, Don Quixote seemed to see her tears, but before she could ask, Anne Belle had already mounted and left.

He was stunned for a long time, until three or two children began to appear in the street and began to play carefreely, which brought Don Quixote's thoughts back.

He remembered that she once said that the past cannot be changed, and we can only strive to create a better future.

At this time, he really began to observe the land she tried her best to protect.

Everywhere you go, endless wars, spreading despair, broken love, unbreathable reality, disdain and ridicule, anger and duty.

Of course, the world is sinister.

The hawker who shouts for his family and life, the stranger who drags the child back to the carriage, the woman who knits a sweater early so that her husband can survive the winter, the beggar who gives her few food to the wild cats on the roadside, the young man who keeps working hard for his dreams, the girl who is looking forward to the return of her lover, and the warm words try to save the desperate people.

We learned how ugly the world is, and at the same time we were able to feel how warm and beautiful the world is.

It's always easy for us to ignore the present life, and the good times that pass by, and when all the time is wasted, we will pull out a dusty book from the bookshelf of memory and sigh its beauty.

Of course, if you can see the beauty of our world that is gradually disappearing, you can experience the happiness you have now, just like the snow that falls on a person's life, no one can see it all, everyone is lonely in their own life for the winter, but they don't want to confide.

Perhaps, God is dead and hope has not yet arrived.

But believe that the beauty never ends.

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