Dong Xiaoran looked into his eyes and said, "You have been tolerant without any end. That kind of tolerance makes me wonder if I am just being perfunctory by you, but it turns out that you still refuse to give in."
After hearing this, Yang Si smiled quietly. He remembered every time he tolerated, every time he was silent, and then he became even more numb.
"I just knew it." Yang Si heard his own voice: "It turns out that there are things I can't accept, but it's still too late."
He should have known that if he could put aside such vain things as dignity and persistence, he would be able to live a better life, or at least keep the person in front of him. But it's a pity that he is terminally ill, just like the residual pesticide, it can't be washed away no matter how hard it is washed, and it penetrates deep into the bone marrow.
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Rough draft + updated from time to time + may be a pitfall