He used to be a tomboy who ran in and out of the alley, with single eyelids and a flat nose. . .
He used to be the little follower next to the female man. Even when the female man sat on the spittoon to go to the toilet, he still squatted beside him. . .
There is one class in kindergarten, one class in elementary school, and then they go separate ways in junior high school. . . When we met by chance in adolescence, the tomboy was already a slim girl. She was in a key middle school, elegant and delicate. She was a follower in a third-rate school and played in the game room every day. . . The lives of the two people seemed to have gone through a fork in the road and drifted apart. . .
The next time they met as adults was in the police station. The female man was already a lawyer, and the little follower was indeed a gambler. . . Life that we once thought would never intersect again meets again, what should we do? . .