Tragic version: She would never have thought of how much he had changed for her, just as she would not have known that he was leaning against the door, sliding down weakly, sitting on the ground dejectedly, curling up with himself; just as she would not have known that this proud man of heaven was covering his face with his hands, bitter tears slowly flowing down, and shouting in his heart to quit; just as she would not have known that wild wolves wandering outside would sometimes feel lonely and tired...
The man behind the door slid down weakly and sat on the ground dejectedly, curling up on himself. "Why?! Why can she accept them but not me? Obviously, I am the first to meet her! It's not fair, it's not fair..." The man's silent shouting finally turned into a cry of despair. He put his hands on his head and pulled his hair painfully. His low sobs vented the huge pain. The face that once made people crazy was full of heartbreak and despair. "So cruel, so cruel..." He murmured, his bright pupils turning gray.
Warm version: The man's attention could not help but be attracted by the afterglow, and his eyes unconsciously moved from the paper to the woman's face. "It is said that men at work are the most handsome, and so do women!" The man thought involuntarily. He watched the beads of sweat on the woman's forehead flow downward, across her small and delicate ears, stop for a moment near her lips, and finally flow down from her chin. Perhaps because the man's gaze was too direct, the woman who was immersed in writing raised her head in confusion and smiled at the man in a good mood. His ears turned red, and the man turned his head stiffly and snorted coldly, but he couldn't stop the inexplicable sweetness in his heart. Where he didn't pay attention, his heart sank quietly...