What I need is not tepid warmth, but a fire that can burn me up. It is not a careful measurement, but a sinking without hesitation. It wasn't until I saw the narrative written for a certain perfume that I suddenly understood - it turned out that what I longed for in the depths of my soul was the calmness and tenacity of sandalwood, the intensity and sharpness of roses, the coolness and uprightness of cypress, and the foundation that is as thick as soil and carries everything. Chi Xun has all of these. But what she gave me was always the alienation of sandalwood, the sharp thorns of roses, the coldness of cypress, and the uncertain soil that seemed to collapse at any time.
It's me who's sick.
I need my lover to be a lunatic too, not the kind of person who waits, weighs, and holds back.
But the kind that burns, devours, and plunders.
Love me with an almost morbid feeling,
A high fever that never goes away,
An insatiable hunger.
But Chi Hao, would you rather freeze yourself with indifference than burn for me?
