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The day I died was April 4th. It is written in the yellow calendar that the day is on duty, and it is not appropriate for major events.

At that moment, all the voices in my ears disappeared and a few drops of hot water splashed on my face.

I think that's my own blood.

If you can live, of course, it is better to live.

I watched them take away the wounded and the dead. The top of the mountain has been cleaned, so you can't see that there has just been a bad fight here.

Those things have something to do with me, because I am also one of the dead.

I want to know where they are taking my body, but I can only watch them go away.

It began to rain, and the surrounding mountains were silent in the rain.

I don't know what I was expecting. Maybe I want to see someone holding me and touching my body, and I can't bear to be separated.

Maybe I'm counting on someone to commit suicide with a sword beside me.

These fantasies are too unrealistic.

In fact, no one cried.

Maybe the pain is too deep to make people cry.

I watched them leave and drift away until they were out of sight.

The wind blew and the forests in the mountains fluctuated.

I don't know why I am so attached. Among these people, there are ...

I don't remember those people, their names or who they are. I don't know if they are my relatives, friends or enemies-

I panicked ...

Call me if you have any questions.