There are seven years of secrets hidden in my diary. The cover says - there are trees in the mountains and branches in the trees. From being late on the first day of high school to the group photo at the graduation ceremony, you are on every page. When you were playing ball, I pretended to memorize vocabulary words on the side of the playground; when you went to bed for self-study at night, I secretly turned up the temperature of the air conditioner; when you had a stomachache, I always had stomach-warming tea in my schoolbag. I thought I hid it well until that day you opened my diary and read the poem on the title page. You looked at me with a smile, and there were stars in your eyes: "The second half of the sentence - I am happy with you, but you don't know it, I know it now."
Intention: unknown