Copywriting
When it snowed for the first time in winter, she saw him at the door of the organizer's lounge.
He handed the signed book to her: "Yours has been kept with me."
"Thank you."
She reached out to take it, and he suddenly raised his hand with a slight smile on his lips: "How are you going to thank me?"
"Ah, let me think about it..."
He pondered for a moment and walked towards her. It wasn't until she retreated to the wall and leaned against the door frame, breathing heavily, that he gave the standard answer, "How about treating me to dinner?"
She yanked the book away from his hands and replied dryly: "Not very good."
Finally she invited him to dinner. A little wine made her sober, but he miraculously got drunk. He grabbed her wrist and talked nonsense: "You know, I really want to have a concert, stand in the center of the stage, a stage that only belongs to me."
"..."
"Will you come to my concert?"
"No."
He didn't seem to hear it, and started singing: "I really have a soft spot for you, because the world is different with you, laugh at me for being too stupid, too ignorant, or for loving too much..."
The aloof male god fell off the altar. He never expected it to be like this.
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