She just leaned against the window and smiled, her pear curls shallow, but filled with countless emotions, as if she was about to burst into tears before she stopped. The fallen peach blossoms outside the window seemed to express the longness of the night. The bright red wedding robe faded away, and her slender white hands touched every place, filled with anger and infatuation, and the cold moonlight filled the room. "I married you just for her. Remember what you owe me clearly." His smile was still as light as a clivia, an addiction he couldn't get rid of, and the corners of his slightly hooked lips were unruly. Finally she lay in his arms and shed her last tear for him. But he didn't want to engrave the title "wife" on her tombstone. Maybe this will pave the way for marriage in the next life. In the next life, he will be a prodigal son wandering around in various bars, but she will still be his infatuated follower. In this life, will he fail her again?