C782 (1/2)

In the morning, birds are chirping at the head of the bed.

Muki lay in bed and looked at the wall all night.

She now preferred to believe that she had been blinded by everything last night.

She got up, stood on the windowsill and pushed the window open gently.

The breeze blows, a burst of elegant flower fragrance overflows between the lips and teeth.

She took a deep breath, but the next second she froze again.

The snow curtains over there are still fluttering.

The man in the wheelchair fell asleep on the table.

He was fast asleep, and even a bird was standing on his desk, pecking at the back of his hand.

He doesn't know. He's too tired.

On the ground, there is a small brocade quilt, which seems to have opened a layer of last night's gossamer dream.

Wood turned and washed.

Her mood is like a rolling wave, rising and falling, the white spray, soaking the small corner of her heart.

Shulo's door opens.

Shiloh goes in, and she cleans up everything around her.

Her eyes were wet like petals in the rain at night, unable to bear the weight of rain drops.

She can't forget, she can't forget that scene.