"I love him, I don't love him, I love him, I don't love him..." Someone is tearing off the petals in the night. The poor flower has been tortured for a long time. It should complain about why God allowed it to grow so many petals.
"It doesn't matter if he is a boy, it doesn't matter if he is a boy. It doesn't matter if he is a boy..." In a different place, another person is also tearing apart, and the flower in his hand is strangely similar to the former. The poor race (flower) is always tortured by the thing "love" and becomes a victim in the hands of lovers.
In the blink of an eye, the petals of the flowers in their hands were about to bottom out. For a moment, fear and surprise filled their hearts. Why is this?
Because the last petal has been half eaten by a caterpillar...