Stood quietly under the moonlight, but is willing to quietly dotted with your dreams, sometimes reluctantly into a meteor shower, in your window flashing, even if only momentary flicker, nor willing to no regrets. When the breeze on my face, like moonlight sent to your Xinyu, that moment as if a thousand words, the kind of tacit understanding rather being at the bottom of my heart, that warm and like in a dream, and accompanied by joy, and accompanied by moving.

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