Chun, coming from the end of the Black Coast
She has three colors of hair
Red, for sacrifice and burning
White, for silence and snowfall
Blue, for the distant sky and the water of death
She is not here for war
She is here to harvest
Harvest the tranquility after annihilation
Harvest the hidden light in fate
Her knife is as fast as lightning
Like a crack in the earth, like blood flowing from the heart
Deng Deng is here too
She is not as quiet as Chun
There is light, laughter, and a shadow following her around her
That shadow is the dream she hid under her pillow in her childhood
She draws the wind with a long blade
She said, “I fight because I haven’t learned to give in yet.”
Chun doesn’t answer
She just dances in the waves
Like a lonely beast
Like the last beam of night before dawn
The card pool of version 1.4
It is a relay of new and old poems
Chun and Deng Deng are unfinished poems Xing
Yinlin is an old poem that has been read thousands of times
Jinxi and Sanhua put on new skins
Like planting new wheat in the field
Treabar is a stone
You just need to cast your wish and wait for three minutes
The wish will sprout, bloom, and bear the fruit of the character
Three minutes is not long, just enough to have a dream
I dreamed that Chun was at the end of the Black Coast, looking back and smiling at you
And Mingchao is an epic that has not yet been completed
Each character is a word in the poem
They are not characters, but people, and souls
It is you, me, and the names of all of us blown by the wind
Chun’s knife is still waving
Like a poet, writing his own compassion in the night
Dengdeng is still running
Like a child, chasing shadows and playing in spring
The wind on the Black Coast is blowing
And I, standing on the beach
Write this poem for you
To Chun, to Dengdeng
To our unspoken love and waiting