The violet left its fragrance on its ankles, and that was forgiveness. - Mark Twain's ordinary afternoon, there was no blue sky like the sea, no sunset like blood, the sky was only foggy, and it seemed to block a layer of unpolished glass in front of him.

Everything was as calm and calm as usual, without a single wave. On the top floor of a building stood a little girl, whose hem was blown up, and her hair on her forehead was blown messy, and she hadn't tidied it up, or she hadn't noticed it.

The girl looked at the gray world with empty eyes, closed her eyes, and opened her arms......

"Seeing Sin in Blooming" Volume 7: The Wrong World is in the middle of a hand, please wait a moment,

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