The rouge is the mask, and the sleeves are the scabbard.
And every glance I look at him is filled with calculation and the only uncertainty...
I used another period of my life to use drama as a blade to plan a well-planned game. Did you think that every step was planned, including him?
I took advantage of his momentum to set up my game.
This was a sober transaction.
Later, the game was over, but I became the person in it.
If I am not who he sees me, would he still be willing to fall in love with me?
At the moment when the mask is about to be torn off, will I usher in eternal catastrophe or true rebirth?
Purpose: Inheritance of intangible cultural heritage