As the saying goes, people will eventually be trapped by the things they couldn't get when they were young. When I grow up, I want to make up for it, but I find that no matter how I try, there is always a trace of flavor missing, and all I can do is let go.
There is a poem that says well, I want to buy sweet-scented osmanthus and drink it with me, but it turns out that I am a young man wandering around.
Perhaps the reason why regret is called regret is because it cannot be made up for.
An ordinary person struggling at the bottom, with regrets, breaks into this magical continent, what kind of story will he encounter?
