Jing Nu Qishu, I am in the corner of the city. Love does not see, scratching the head. Jing Nu Qi, Yi I Tong Guan. Say Yi Rumei. Self-shepherding, beautiful and different, bandits are beautiful, and beautiful people are the same. The twilight was heavy, and the dim light obscured the red glow that soared on his face; the love was deep, and an ordinary grass swayed in his heart with the signal of love. The promise in love is like a spring breeze dream, too much lingering, waiting for only a scarred heart.
![Two little guesses![fig]](data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAP///wAAACwAAAAAAQABAAACAkQBADs=)