His pure-colored hair was soaked with blood, and strands stuck to his fair skin. There was the sound of water dripping, and a small puddle gradually formed under his feet. He moved his lips and stretched out his hand towards her, as if he wanted to say something to her. Maybe he had no strength, or maybe he really couldn't speak anymore. He just looked at her quietly, with an expression on the verge of tears, and something that was difficult for her to understand in his green eyes, and then everything stopped.
There is no intertwining of love and hate in this world. Maybe love exceeds hate, or hate exceeds love. Maybe we should just be strangers.
Who knows what kind of ending is perfect?
Maybe nothing was perfect from the beginning.
Purpose: Cherish everything around you, don't wait until you lose it to find out what you have missed. Life is not a novel, there is no do-over and no coincidence.