This story, how should I put it, has been posted on BBS for a few episodes, and many netizens said it was true, so true that it could be compared to Zhao Qian and Sun Li. But I find it terrifying. The more real it is, the more terrifying it is. I would rather it be just a story, quietly flowing through the hearts of people who like it. It took me more than half a year to finish the first draft. I wrote a lot of places, and my heart and fingers were very hurt when I wrote it. I could hear the gloomy gloom flowing from the tip of my pen, and at the same time I could hear my hearty laughter rippling between my friends and me. I feel like my smile is always dancing, but in the end it will dance hopelessly into the abyss of melancholy, unable to struggle anymore. So no matter how much I wanted to write a happy ending, the land plowed by the pen finally left a bright feeling of loss, and there was no great sadness, just the tinkling of the gloomy spring, knocking on my heart, making my spring and autumn uproar, but not noisy.