When the self-destructive genius school bully meets the transfer student with perfect writing talent
She saw the same scar on the back of his hand as on her mother's arm. She knew at that moment that she couldn't get rid of him from the moment she raised her phone and rushed out in the rainy alley.
Their encounter was not a decent one—he was blocked in the alley, and she rushed into the rain with her cell phone in hand and said, "I've called the police." The gangster ran away. He leaned against the wall and looked up at her, rain dripping down his forehead. She knelt down and looked level with him: "The scar on the back of your hand is the same as on my mother's arm."
Later, there was an additional line in her English textbook: "There is a word before Abandon called Accompany, companionship." He snatched her steamed buns and turned them into buns with different flavors every day, and threw her homework books into dense red pen comments. One doesn't know how to treat someone well, and the other can recognize the wounds on the same kind of person at a glance.
Two people crawled out of the ruins, each holding half a brick and half a tile, and put them together, just enough to build a house.
Intention: Two-way redemption, she sews up his old wounds, and he helps her catch the fall.