A branch, broken and split, dangling year after year, clicking its song to the wind, with neither leaves nor bark, bear, wan, worn out by a long life and a long death. Its song echoes, cracking and persistent. Stubbornly, it resounds with secret anguish for yet another summer, yet another winter.
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在逃桃子
2024-09-17 12:26
吴不疑
2024-09-17 01:43
乄芒果·奶昔
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冬马
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文如晋风
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