The candle shadow flickered red, and he sewed her clothes and tied her hair, with bottomless tenderness in his eyes. He called her "Qing Qing", like reciting the most affectionate poem in the world, protecting her under his wings, impervious to wind and rain. However, the whistle outside the wall, the boy next door, and even the penetrating peach blossom eyes of a close friend all try to throw stones into this quiet world. When acquiescence turns into connivance, and when the next "he" gets his name, where will this gentle imprisonment composed of love go?
Intention: You want it, you get it!
