That night, she was as eternally quiet as a hill (micro-fiction)
On that day, she watched the sun rise from the east, watching the warm sunlight, through the dense willow trees, shining on her, and she knew that they would also shine on him a few miles away.
That day, she looked at the blue sky and thought of him as clear as the blue sky; she looked at the hundred-year-old banyan and thought of him as steady as the old banyan; she watched the sunlight through the glass window, thinking of him as transparent as the sun.
That day, she listened to everything, breathed softly, did not say a word in silence, thinking of the sun shining on his sweat, and they dripped on her heart.
And, yes, and, she watched the ziwei blossoms of the trees along the way, thinking of the love like the ziwei flowers, regardless of the hot sun, regardless of the wind and rain.
On that day, she watched the sunset on the edge of the sky slowly sinking, and the ancient golden sunlight crossed the whole city, brilliant her eyes, and she knew that they would also shine his eyes.
That night, she wore a cheongsam and made a pot of tea for him. He sipped, his lips and teeth fragrant, and his eyebrows affectionate. She said that the tea was called: Smoke and Water Wide.
That night, there was always a poetic charm in her eyes; there seemed to be a trickle of mountains flowing in her voice. As he watched, he couldn't help but exclaim: Mother.
She listened, the corners of her mouth slightly raised.
She said she only loved a man named Zhijun.
When she said "Sincere Jun", the buckle on the collar of her cheongsam moved slightly, and only once, the charm was even more numerous.
No matter how great reason is, there are times when it is difficult to persuade deep inner feelings. Her heart, she never said easily. "The mountain has wood and the wood has branches, and the heart is happy that the king does not know", she is willing to give all her emotions to the time to explain.
And that night, she confessed that she only loved a man named Zhijun.
She said that the joy of drinking alone, the hustle and bustle of the air cold, a thought deep, in a flash. A woman can be without a peerless appearance, but not without rich emotions.
Those with deep lust are shallow. Asking for nothing, as if she had tea in her cup.
That night, he touched her as eternal silence as a hill.
