Looking at Mo Jinyu's back pulling the suitcase, she stood behind him and shouted loudly; "Mo Jinyu, you must be happy."
He turned back, and the wind blew his inky hair, with a relieved smile on his lips, and then left without looking back. His love came to an end, and he did not cry to stay, but just wished him to find his own happiness.
Love is like an epiphyllum, which once bloomed gorgeously in the middle of the night, but also slowly withered in the lonely night.