When I was seven years old, it rained heavily in the summer. My dad went back to install an awning under the camphor tree. I waited for half an hour. Then he came. During the summer vacation when I was thirteen years old, at the construction site, in the cab of the excavator, he let me sit on his lap and taught me to push the handle. He said slowly, don't rush. Later, my dad spoke less and less. In my sophomore year of high school, I found out he had someone else. My mother found out and didn't get divorced. She said it was for me. At night I heard her crying in the next room.
It was so good before, it was really good. It was not good later, and it was really bad. But those good things will not become fake because of subsequent bad things.
Intention: Good love is far less deadly than harm.