C143 Chapter 143

Don't know the name of the little white flower, it's swaying gently in the wind. Watching the pedestrians coming and going, watching you walk past, and then me;

It looked at the light that bloomed in you, looked at the footsteps that I chased, you had your direction, and that was also my direction;

You carry the aura of a foreign country, coming and going year after year. Sometimes I am there