"——Some flowers never bloom, never see the light of day."
"——Some flowers resign themselves to fate, going with the flow."
"——Some rise up."
"——Some fall."
"——But, only you make the heavenly beauty become real."
"——Only you can show them the real me... see clearly, the real me."
The crisp and melodious singing is like a clear stream flowing, echoing in the air, harmonizing with the babbling brook beneath, composing a beautiful symphony.
Jiang Yu straightened up, tossed the brush in her hand into the wooden bucket, tightened the belt around her waist, rolled up her pants and sleeves higher, exposing a length of fair arms and legs, and gently exhaled.
It was mid-winter, the cold was biting, the white breath she expelled was like a long snake, winding for a long time along the direction of the flowing stream.
"——Some flowers never bloom, never see the light of day."
"——Some flowers resign themselves to fate, going with the flow..."
