Maybe every man has had two such women, at least two. Married a red rose, over time, the red one turned into a touch of mosquito blood on the wall, and the white one was still so bright at the foot of my bed; Married a white rose, the white is the rice on the clothes, and the red is the Zhu Shazhi in my heart. Sometimes I often feel that living is like walking on mud. It's too light, and when you look back, you will regret that you left nothing, even a footprint, but the things in your heart are too heavy, and you will sink in if you are not careful.