He could never forgive her again, she waited bitterly for a month, until the third snowfall in Beijing. Sitting on the bank of the Weiming Lake, with green willows hanging down the ground, the breeze was blowing, Boyata's magic pen was on the hill , he looked at her across the water and touched the red rope under the moon. In the third snow, the red clothes were hanging on the ground, and the cold snow covered his face. Boyata's magic pen would never write a word for her, even a word , That's okay. With that vigorous and powerful magic pen, he turned the tide and set off a stormy sea. How could he write like this? He is not honest or gentle at all. He spends money like dirt and jade like grass. She strokes her heart. There is no man who returns home , It will eventually stagnate. A group of one color: 99758273, group owner Su Yueqingqing. Your bedside, believe me, I can do it in the world.)