I have followed your footsteps from childhood to adulthood, ignorance, innocence, passion, ambiguity, boredom, separation and reunion. I seem to have become a kite in your hands. I don't know what other people's love is like. I only know that I am no longer me. Will the cinnabar mole in my heart continue to penetrate deep into the bone marrow or be cut out with a sharp sword? Who will save this sinking heart?