Three answers about love

It was the Beginning of Spring that day. 

Early in the morning, I was awakened by the phone, and at the other end was the excited voice of a little girl who knew me, which was as tender as a new leaf outside the window: "I know, I know what love is." 

Love is the bouquet of roses he holds in his hands, red as blood, forever as the years, and life is the combination of a thousand springs, from one, rose to the next. " 

Across the phone, I could see the tears in her eyes. 

The 19-year-old, who had always had a quiet smile and pink cheeks, suddenly lost weight for no reason, unconsciously in a trance, and his eyes sparkled and began to make inexplicable phone calls or write equally inexplicable letters, sometimes tears, sometimes emotional, and more often kept asking: "what on earth is love?" 

And love is probably one of the few in our lives, so we have to explore the truth in person, right? 

That day, I was really busy, and there was something I had to eat in the evening, but because of her joy, I couldn't help repeating her words at the dinner table. 

The lady on the left took a puff of smoke, and her makeup face looked like a flower in the smell of peppermint. 

She chuckled softly, "it's so young." 

We probably won't know until we're our age. 

Love is just the cream on the cake, always sweet, soft, fragrant, and waxy. 

After eating up, it was exposed that the cake underneath might have been dry and cracked, or that it had grown green hair, but what could it do? 

The cakes have been bought back. 

Life is such a piece of cake. " 

The smoke burned out in her hand. 

At the moment of bowing her head, she exposed her age. 

All those prosperity have come to an end, and what appears in front of me is a lonely woman. 

The banquet broke up and accompanied a colleague home. 

She, with a solemn black coat under her gray hair and an uneven wrinkle on her face, was still calm when she told me that she had nothing to eat or live with the "dead old man" and had nothing to do with life or death. 

Spring night, still cold, I said: "there must be, love." 

She was silent for a moment, then said, "Yes. 

But it's not what they say. 

Perhaps, love is like the halo reflected by the glass against the sun, colorful and brilliant, and at that moment it is the miraculous beauty of heaven and earth. 

But the sun never turns back, there is only one chance in a lifetime that the sun will shine on you, let you see such a wonderland, and then the sun will leave. 

All that's left in your hand is a dull piece of ordinary glass. " 

When I went home, I was walking alone on the bank of the river, and Jiang kept pestering me at my feet. 

All of a sudden, their voices all emerged in the sound of the tide. 

These three women, standing in the three post stations of life, look at each other, just like all the women who look at each other in the river of time, but can never get close to each other, use their lives to explore the true face of love. 

Understand their answer, that is, understand the harm of love to a woman's life. 

This is spring, this is the most beautiful spring night, and I shed tears quietly.

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