Jiang Yao's life is a dense web woven by his mother with "firsts". Ever since she could remember, all her choices had been precisely controlled, and even her breathing was like stepping on a scale of ranking. Over time, her temperament also faded into a dull tone, and silence became her most accustomed posture.
Xu Shengmiao's world began to collapse when he was ten years old. The gambler's father's fists were commonplace, and the mother ultimately failed to survive those dark days and chose to escape by death. The scab on the young man's heart was harder to heal than the scars on his body. He shrank himself into a lonely shadow, but in a corner where no one saw him, he quietly looked forward to a glimmer of warm light.
Fate brought these two people with their own serious illnesses together. At first, I thought it was salvation in a desperate situation, a bud growing out of desolation. I thought I could finally grab something to fight against the cold winter in our lives. But the warmth that was carefully cultivated could not withstand the burden of reality after all. It seemed like a prologue to happiness, but it turned out that the footnote leading to sadness was written from the beginning.
Intention: Use the pen as the base to write the glorious chapters of their prosperous times