I had a dream, in which we were still chatting and laughing.
In the attic in winter, I made up random imaginary past and present lives. You were not only a listener, but also a violent destroyer. Whenever I say something that displeases you, you beat me up, and then the fight gets out of hand. At that time, you were the big bag that I hated the most.
Then, the camera changed. In the dream, I frowned and looked at your undisguised affection for you class beauties. From the beginning to the end, you didn't pay me any attention at all, and you didn't notice me pulling down the corner of my mouth behind the big tree. It was then that I discovered that the steamed bun sister was really just a younger sister, and the steamed bun was no longer just a symbol of a brother.
You are the Zhang Shun I want.
The next time you appeared again, I seemed to be able to hear your rapid breathing and choking cough as you rushed upstairs, and perhaps your young and powerful heartbeat. I clenched my palms tightly and leaned against the door, not even daring to open my eyes. Because when you open your dream, you wake up.