The breeze blew the corners of the boy's clothes, and the sun shone on the slightly curled hair. The boy's report started the prologue of the story. The ignorance of youth is mixed with bursts of heartache and panic that dare not speak. I am afraid that my expressed thoughts will be disturbing, and I am afraid that my unclear thoughts will be missed and regretful. How many times I opened my mouth slightly, how many times I withdrew my heart, unable to express it. It is because I am afraid of losing further, and I am afraid of regret when I step back...
This novel and its characters are purely fictitious. Any similarity is purely coincidental and should not be imitated.
