She traveled back to her previous life with the unresolved knots in her life, wandering around in confusion, one was in love, the other was unintentional; one had no regrets, and the other was deeply affectionate; the sea of love was floating in the clouds, "Who will be whose poison? Who will be whose medicine?"
It is inevitable that there will be thunder in time travel, so it doesn't matter how vulgar we are dressed. What matters is the tossing and turning or heart-stirring love that is imprinted on our hearts, and the touch it brings us.
Saw it! Laughed! Cried! Only when we understand it can we live freely and happily in real life. Stories are just stories after all, and they are just that.