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Ying first met Hitomi in a bar called Drift. There was smoke in the air, there was rum, there was something she had never been allowed near. He sat at the bar, his back to her, turning a frayed red chip between his fingers. She remembered the back of his head, the outline of his shoulders, and the cold, dry smell in the air, like the wind in the wilderness through the pines and cypresses. Hitomi is a rotten person. This is everyone's consensus on him. Professional players live by winning money at the poker table. I haven't finished college, I have no fixed income, I don't have a fixed address, I don't have a fixed relationship. He rides a black BMW motorcycle and has a faded red rope tied around his left wrist. He doesn't have women around him, but he sleeps with different women. Don't be distracted, don't be emotional, just leave when you're done. He goes to western Sichuan once a year, rides a motorcycle to the plateau, stays for a few days at the foot of the snowy mountain without any communication signals, and then comes back to continue playing cards. Friends advised Ying to stay away from him. He's not a bad guy, but he's not a good guy. But Ying went anyway. She went to the bar called Drift once, twice, three times. She watched him remain calm when he won money, and didn't frown when he lost money, like a hollow person. She watched him hand her the umbrella on a rainy night and then turn around and walk away. She watched him say, "You are someone who shouldn't come to a place like this," only to show up at the bar again the next day. She wasn't here to save him. She just yearned for Hitomi's freedom and unruliness. She wondered how he was still alive. Ying is a melancholy person. Her melancholy is not shown on her face, but hidden in her bones. She was a girl raised by rules, always ranked first in grades and always full in her schedule. It took three years to complete all the credits in Saint Martin. He graduated and returned to China at the age of twenty. At the age of twenty-one, he already had a name in the luxury buyer circle. She smoked cigarettes and Marlboros; she drank, and drank all the underground bars in Camden Town during her three years in London. After an accident, she stopped drinking. Until I met him. She broke her vows for him. Not because he let her drink it. It's because she wants to drink. This relationship was never a salvation from the beginning. He has his motorcycle, his card table, and his billiards. She couldn't get into those things, and she didn't intend to. But he stayed. It wasn't her who grabbed it. He stopped on his own. He didn't take off the red string, but he began to remember what she said, what she liked to eat, and how she looked different from usual during meetings. He gradually left the poker table and started doing serious work as event commentator. He didn't get better, he just had a reason to want to get better. They got separated and it took them many years to get back together. Not because he has changed for the better, not because she has forgiven him for what he owed her. It's because both people see something in each other - the possibility of "you can be complete, and I can be complete, but we choose to move forward together." This is a story about waiting, about pursuing freedom and piecing together oneself. Waiting actively, soberly, and knowing that you may be heartbroken again. She waited for him to find the answer, and he waited for her to find the answer. Purpose: 1. Counter the myth of the "other half". 2. Conscious resistance of the disciplined person. 3. Love is not salvation, but witness. 4. The paradox of freedom and love