Pei Luo could never say the word love.
When he was seven years old, on the day that his mother took him away, Pero left the only small pot of cactus on the bedside table to his silent father who was sitting by the window.
At the age of ten, Pei Luo smiled crookedly at the embarrassed young man in the stream for the first time.
At the age of sixteen, Pero was accustomed to leaning against the guardrail in the deserted corridor in the afternoon and staring at a desk soaked in sunlight that was only separated by a window.
At the age of twenty, Pei Luo gently and reverently kissed the forehead of the sleeping person next to him.
At the age of twenty-four, Pei Luo slowly placed the ring tightly in his palm on the small table opposite, and said with a smile: "Han Muchen, let's get a divorce."
One session at a time.
Peiro loved only once, once in a lifetime.