She seemed to be incredibly shrewd, but in fact she was so stupid that she could not reach her. She gave all the good things to the only relative in her heart without hesitation, and this love actually started the prologue of all the stories.
She seems to be too ordinary to be shocked, but in fact she is brewing a torrential downpour; she strives to cater to the judgment standards of this world, but in fact she hates all the rules of the world.
The endless darkness where I hesitate alone, the faint light that appears not far away, is enough to fly a moth into a flame. There must be tenderness, but the ending is always like a domino with no end in sight.