Jian Xing liked someone once.
Moths fly to the flame, and they will not rest until death, but in exchange they say: "She is not worthy of me."
Later, we met again as strangers.
Her bright eyes were thoughtful, decent yet unfamiliar, "Long time no see."
Shu Shibian pursed his lips, swallowing the itch that had been scratching his bones and scratching his heart day and night for seven years, his brows calming, "Let's start over."
Intention: