Cattail fans in winter, cotton-padded clothes in summer, and the heart that you finally came to me, but I had already lost.
A long time ago, Shasha thought that growing up would be a long process.
Soon after, she finally understood that growing up was a long and painful process.
There are thousands of roads in the world. What and who made her embark on this long and winding road. On the road to and from a foreign country, a year is a long life.
Walking on a strange road, my eyes are full of desolation, but there are no tears, because I don't belong here.
The first and third person are intertwined, autobiographical monologue, the cruelty of love, the betrayal of friendship and the warmth of life. Multiple unresolved questions, a life journey with no end in sight, interlocking collisions of fate, and ruthless means of seeing flowers in the fog.
PS: It's not a sad story, it's not a cool story, it's not top-notch, and the ending is unknown. I don't know how it will be written. The outline is a steady flow of white text, and the goal is to write it into a strategic article that will chill you behind the scenes.