The Wind Rises in Late Summer

[Under the insanity, I was actually the container of his white moonlight] Third PersonChanged [Crazy female protagonist vs. Sinister male protagonist + reversal + male protagonist chasing his wife in the crematorium + childhood trauma + redemption] He planted a flower with his own hands in an attempt to bury her and her hell, but he didn't know that on the day the flower bloomed, hell would open its eyes. One pair is weeping and the other is laughing. I got out of the car and looked at his curved eyebrows, waving to me. I walked towards him cautiously, and a bit of hot late summer breeze hit me. Maybe my hair is a little messy, maybe my heart jumped into a vortex unconsciously. "I like to look into your eyes, as if you are talking, saying nice and gentle words." He grabbed my hand hard, "She also grabbed my hand like this..." I almost used all my strength to push him away: "Okay, where are you playing with substitute literature?!" "Don't think that this is a deserted alley, and you are the only one who dares to molest me!" I deliberately leaned into his ear and said, this should be considered a provocation...