Half a month later, we confirmed our relationship. I love her carefully, not asking about the past, not thinking about the future, as if only in this way can I experience the purest and most primitive love.

Every day together is a romance that lingers to the death. I love to see her languid in bed, and to see her sleepy eyes when she wakes up in the morning looking at me.

My fingers danced merrily on her smooth skin, and then there was a burst of joyful chanting, and I loved the sound like a bird flying by in the quiet of the mountain forest after the rain.

Every time I was passionate with her, I sublimated my empty spiritual world. Those painful memories were slowly worn away in the hearty impact, leaving only faint marks.

I love her beautiful body as much as I love her soul. She is not only my lover, but also God's salvation for me.

At seven o'clock in the evening, it was still raining in the sky. Through the window, I saw her trotting through the silvery rain with an umbrella in her hand.

I didn't expect her to come back, and I was so excited that I couldn't sit still. I rubbed my cheeks vigorously with both hands, revealing a smile that I thought was soft.

And she, apparently, didn't expect me to be here. We looked at each other face to face, looked at each other's eyes and smiled.

Later, as a token of appreciation, she invited me to dinner. It was our first date, at least in my mind's eye.

In fact, the dinner that day was very enjoyable, and there was a movie after the meal. This is unprecedented, not only for me but also for her.

The seeds of love sprout from that moment to sprout the sprouts of hope. 23.225.191.196,23.225.191.196; 0; pc; 1; Mo Tie Literature met her one afternoon, when the rain suddenly came, so that many people were caught off guard.

She was in the middle of it, like a panicked little rabbit, frantically looking for shelter from the rain before my eyes, and my big umbrella had inadvertently become that place.

We hid under umbrellas together, close to each other, not as cold and reserved as strangers. She was in a hurry, so I offered to give her the umbrella.

Maybe there was something urgent to do, or maybe I was honest, and she accepted it a little embarrassed after a few excuses.

She sent me to the coffee shop across the road to sit down, ordered a latte, and then gave me a gentle smile and said that I would come back when I was done, and asked me to wait for her before leaving with my umbrella and taking my heart with her.

Listen to them, I was born on a dark rainy night. The rain pounded on the windows

"Crackling" quarreled all night. They hate the rain as much as they hate my birth. Sometimes I even wonder if it's because they hate the rain that they hate me, or because they hate me because they hate the rain, until years later I realize that the only one they really hate is me, and the rain is innocent.

Even as a child, their eyes were like a sharp sword, enough to pierce my young heart.

They looked at me like a monster, like a seed left behind by someone among them who had convicted with someone else.

I'd love to see what kind of nasty face I had at that time. It's a pity that they never took a picture of me, or they didn't want to leave a photo of me, but they left me behind.

I'd love to ask why? Why did you want to give birth to me, who annoys people? Is it just to give their eyes full of contempt and hatred a place to settle down?

But after all, I didn't have a chance to ask. It was another rainy day, and they were hit and killed in a traffic accident.

Half a month later, we confirmed our relationship. I love her carefully, not asking about the past, not thinking about the future, as if only in this way can I experience the purest and most primitive love.

Every day together is a romance that lingers to the death. I love to see her languid in bed, and to see her sleepy eyes when she wakes up in the morning looking at me.

My fingers danced merrily on her smooth skin, and then there was a burst of joyful chanting, and I loved the sound like a bird flying by in the quiet of the mountain forest after the rain.

Every time I was passionate with her, I sublimated my empty spiritual world. Those painful memories were slowly worn away in the hearty impact, leaving only faint marks.

I love her beautiful body as much as I love her soul. She is not only my lover, but also God's salvation for me.

The rain splashed on the black hood

The "crackling" raindrops, which converged along the brim of the hat, dripped overwhelmingly on the wide black canopy.

It was still the same person, sitting motionless by the Chu River, as if he was asleep, and as if he was meditating.

He didn't have an umbrella. A mischievous raindrop crept into his hat and down his cheeks and neck into his collar.

But it didn't affect him at all, and he slowly raised his head as if he had just woken up. The brim of the hat was pressed low, and a black mask was worn on his mouth, revealing only a pair of dark eyes.

There was liquid soaking my eyes, and I couldn't tell if it was rain or tears. His gaze was always fixed on one direction—a section of the fence on the side of the Chu River not far from him.