A story about harmony and perfection. The male is called harmony, the female is called perfection.
The most perfect story in my imagination must have a charming male protagonist, a gentle male supporting character, a not-so-excellent but special female protagonist, a bloody plot, an uncertain ending and a hidden darkness.
I started writing this story at the lowest point in my life. Full of my favorite cliches. If possible, I hope that the end of the story will be the end of the lowest point of the parabola of my life.
The mood of the heroine: All my life, I long to be collected, properly placed, and carefully preserved. Save me from shock, save me from suffering, save me from wandering around, save me from having no branches to rely on. But that man, I know, I have always known, he will never come.