He grasped my heart with his pupils stained with warm and cold lust, but I was like the piece of blood jade that had been carved countless times, embedded in his body with deep pride and coldness, torturing each other until the road was revealed at dawn. I love him so I want to kill him. When we first met each other when we entered the palace at the age of seventeen, I thought he was ridiculous and he thought I was pitiful. We drew our swords and cut out each other's flesh, and it was so painful that in the end there was only joy left. At the twenty-year-old banquet, we were not afraid of the ups and downs, and indulged in music and laughter. After another five years, we spent less time together and more time away from each other, walking and stopping, and one person always felt indifferent. I only have my appearance on paper, but not your heart or my heart.