The male lead is a soldier who fakes his death during a secret mission. The female lead is a novelist who waits for him for five years. She writes many happy-ending novels, but eventually writes a tragic ending novel based on the two of them, then kills herself. As it turns out, the very next day, the male lead completes his mission and returns safely.
The early morning sun shines through the leaves, casting tiny, dancing light spots on the bedroom floor. Xia Linxi frowned, her eyelashes trembled a few times, but she still resisted the sleepiness and opened her eyes. The alarm clock hasn't gone off yet, but the biological clock is more precise than any machine. She habitually looked at the desk first. On the first page of the open planner, the dense handwriting had already overflowed from "Today's To-Do". Fifty English words for the postgraduate entrance examination, review of Chapter 3 of the professional course, group discussion in the afternoon to prepare a speech, and in the evening I have to listen to the lecture on "Career Planning for College Students"... The day has just begun, and it has already been silently packed, tightly packed, and breathless. Half of college life is over. This thought was like a feather gently tickling the tip of my heart, bringing with it an imperceptible emptiness. She sat up, rubbed her eyes, and looked out the window. The dense camphor leaves were almost transparent when illuminated by the sun, and the greenery was surging, but as I looked at it, the familiar, inexplicable sense of lack quietly came over me again. This feeling has become stronger recently. It felt like a small piece had collapsed somewhere in the chest. It didn't hurt, but it couldn't be filled up enough. It is obviously very busy, very "fulfilling", and running smoothly according to the established track, but I just feel... Something is missing. What exactly is missing? She doesn't know either. Maybe it's a gust of wind with no purpose, a sudden adventure, or just the right to hang out for an afternoon. Although summer has just entered, the climate in Lake City has already become unbearably hot. The air is thick, carrying the faint noise of distant construction sites and the smell of steaming vegetation, pressing heavily on the skin. The air conditioner in the dormitory was running quietly, barely keeping the room cool, but it couldn't dissipate the inexplicable restlessness in my heart. She took a deep breath, lifted the quilt, stepped on the cool floor with her bare feet, and walked towards the desk. A new day begins, just like yesterday, and probably will be the same tomorrow.
