This is a story about youth. Everyone has this kind of youth: innocence, impulsiveness, persistence, confusion... She is proud but fragile. Youth is crueler to her than anything else. She can only and must face the embarrassment by herself and clean up the mess. In this way, she has become accustomed to accepting setbacks alone, It was not that there was no desire, but the disappointment afterwards was more terrible than the injury. The jokes of fate kept on, and he found her. Habits are sometimes fatal knives, and he turned out to be her eternal wound. Now that they have found her, they cannot be together. Is the repetition of life also the true nature of youth? Where should she go?