At four o'clock in the morning, the city sank into the deepest darkness.
I was sitting in the empty and cold living room, holding a long-burned cigarette between my fingertips, and the screen stayed on the game login page that had been dusty for two years.
I know the account and password by heart, but I never dare to press the login button again.
There are multiple screenshots in the photo album, more than 100,000 chat records are backed up in the WeChat cloud, and the voice messages are retained in the white strips. They are all locked in the deepest folder of the phone. Folder Notes: Doesn't matter. Game tie-in.
I deceived myself for three whole years.
Intention: Pride makes people love without knowing it. Suspicion crushes tenderness day and night. Farewell to mountains and seas, there is no return date.