This is not a luxurious story, nor is it a story of love and death.
Everyone in this story is the most ordinary person in the world, just like those who pass us by.
We have all had a bright and painful youth, and we have all learned how to grow up and how to protect ourselves.
The same is true for them in the story. Amidst countless betrayals and injuries, they hugged each other silently for warmth, licked their wounds alone, and waited for the long dawn in sleepless nights one after another.
Some of them may have reached the sky in one step, some may have plummeted, some may have betrayed the people around them, and some may have been hurt by love.
But please remember that nothing in this world belongs to us, and we do not belong to anything in this world.
I have shaped them, and their stumbling youth along the way has also shaped me.
——Putting pen to paper: For whom the city falls