Two cities, with tens of millions of people coming and going, the chance of meeting an old love is only one in ten million, which is lower than the chance of being attacked by a terrorist while walking on the street. However, what kind of traction pulls the person you least want to meet to your side? I had tried so hard to escape and struggled to forget, but at the moment we met, they all became false propositions.
Life is so difficult. I don't have a luxury car or a famous brand, and I can't live the life I want. I build a humble habitat with scraps and tiles that I picked up, and I am too fragile to withstand a little blow.
If love is a disaster, I guess I am not a survivor.