When I first met him, he had his hair tied up and was lighting a fire casually.
"My condolences." After the funeral, he stood in front of me expressionlessly and looked at me.
He hugged me tighter, as if he wanted to rub me into his body.
The next second, he pushed me away, staggered, broke off a jujube thorn, and stuck it in the tiger's mouth. Blood fell like beads. He handed me one and smiled carelessly: "Try it, it hurts."