He is the wood, the bamboo pole, and the acceptance of death for everything.
For yourself, for your family, and for your ideals.
But never for her.
It wasn't until that gaze disappeared that I understood,
I have never dared to touch it. . .
Since childhood, I have stared at, admired, secretly loved, and been unwilling to accept.
She knew she couldn't force herself,
But there was no hesitation.
Pity my pursuit,
In the end it was a farce.
Can't touch that person's heart.