Li Zhi carried Wu Wenjie through the muddy water. She hugged his neck and rested her head on his fat chest. All she could see was his round chin with faint green stubble. She thought that maybe she could also love this man. She doesn't have to be anyone. She really had to get married.
Then they got married, and the marriage became an apron; Li tide was born, and Li tide was the tie on the apron.
Then they got married, and the marriage became "What's for dinner?"; Li tide was born, and Li tide wore a low-cut suspender belt, white legs and black stockings, a young woman's number.
Only when she is with Guo Wan, only when she sees Guo Wan, will Wu Wenjie feel better.
Guo Wan is the firefly in late summer, the North Star in the dawning sky, and the last match in her hand when she lives on the streets. Guo Wan is sitting in the third row by the window, and she is standing on the podium. Guo Wan's shoulders were slender, and the tips of her hair were gently swept away. A distance within reach.
Intention: Each person is his or her own projection