The people around me took my hand and thoughtfully used just the right amount of strength.

What I recalled was the long black hair that I once held in my hand, the slightly cool, soft long hair.

Long hair that can slip through your fingers if you're not careful.

It's not like this, holding me with a firm hand, and won't let go of it.

It once belonged to a woman, the woman whose hair I tied.Interlocking fingers, saying the vows of youth, even though we were all so pious.

Make a wish not to be apart, make a wish to be together forever, make a wish to say I am willing before God, make a wish to be blessed by strangers in the strange streets of England.

But now I am still here, and the person who will enter the marriage hall with me is not her.

The originally empty venue was full of people, parents and relatives had gratified smiles on their faces, some blessed them with good looks, and some said they would be a good match for a hundred years.

This is a wedding blessed by all.

Speaking of it, I am also willing.

The path made by everyone also came to an end, and we came to the white arch, white and holy.

What resounds is the wedding march, and now it's time.

In the archway stood a figure in priestly robes.

Skipping the preface, he asked: "Madam, would you like to?"

I want to say that I am willing, but I can't open my mouth anyway. Looking back, my relatives all have expressions of expectation on their faces.

I closed my eyes and said, "I will."

What else did they say, I couldn't hear the cheers, I just thought of that woman named Xi Qing.

But I obviously don't love her that much.

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