At the age of sixteen, the two ends of the desk, the arms that occasionally touched him, and the afterglow that fell on him in the south wind were all intentional on my part. At the age of twenty-three, I left him with a broken heart. Loving him meant the pain of breathing. At the age of thirty, he came back to me. Loving him from then on was my sweetest career. However, I didn't know that a greater test was coming for us...