Many years later, he would sigh: The thing he was most fortunate about was that on that sunny afternoon, he was attracted by the slowly rising balloon and looked up. The figure standing with a water glass in his hand was engraved in his eyes and life. He was deeply entangled in the love he had unintentionally stolen. The first taste of sweetness made him obsessed, and he plundered the cold body unscrupulously. The god of fate sprinkled the nightmare of death. The person who once haunted him made him regret every time he thought about it for the rest of his life.
It's fate.