No matter what happened before, it is buried in my heart. There was a line of liquid sliding down the face, bright and transparent, a little insignificant in the dark night. I stretched out a hand and pretended to fiddle with my hair. My fingertips seemed to accidentally touch the residual heat, and I wiped it off without hesitation. The whole process took less than a few seconds, and it was so smooth because it had been done countless times.