The taste of habit,
Is there some bitterness of black coffee, some romance of Paris, some...
They say that the highest level of lying is that nine out of ten sentences are false.
The highest level of acting is to lose one's sincerity in the plot
I can't give up the warmth of snuggling in your arms,
I can't stop being ruthless and capricious about your warmth and coldness,
I can't get rid of the playful smile in your peach blossom eyes,
It's just that I'm alone and a little cold