Roll up:
At the age of fifteen, I transferred to another city, where I met my first love. He is an obedient top student in the eyes of his teacher and a clear little prince in the eyes of his female classmates. He is always so gentle and kind, and his two naughty tiger teeth make him smile like an innocent child.
During a family dinner, a handsome, willful and indifferent young man broke into my sight. Both parents actually announced on the spot: He and I are getting married from the tip of our little finger, as evidenced by the rings hanging around our necks. "Let's break off the engagement!" I ran to his school to find him, but countless groups of people intercepted me.
One wave has not subsided, and another wave has arisen. In the third grade of junior high school, there was a boy who was known throughout the school as a playboy and a typical playboy. He led a few gangster-like men to block me in an alleyway after school, declaring his love for me domineeringly. I sent someone to deliver a romantic and touching love letter in the morning and a bouquet of delicate roses in the afternoon, and he turned out to be the boy who saved my life in the bar.
Three-thirds of love, who is my true destiny?