I think love is lonely, and not loving is also lonely. Before I met him, I was lonely, but that loneliness was like the floating clouds on the mountains, the moss marks in the forest, the helplessness of sitting and watching time pass, the years fade away, and the occasional unavoidable dejection of drifting in the world of mortals. When I was with him, I was still lonely sometimes. When I was deeply in love, I was full of resentment, day and night, and I was always afraid that good flowers would fall and the moon would not be round.
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A love affair in a modern city begins like a Cinderella fairy tale. An ordinary woman meets her handsome and affectionate prince, and this story begins. As for the ending, please read on slowly. Everything seems to be doomed, but everything seems possible...
This story is purely fictitious. Any similarity is purely coincidental. Please do not take it personally.
Intention: fate