"Song Zhiyue, you... Think, what do I look like to you?" Mu Yuying asked, blinking her drunken eyes.
"Like a flood."
"What... What! It shouldn't be... It's... Well... It's Yangchun Shui..."
Song Zhiyue looked at the wooden figure crawling on the table in front of her, exuding the smell of alcohol, leaned over to her ear, and whispered:
"Like a flood, a flood that makes me willing to drown."
A cold-blooded writer on the outside and a serialist who talks about social fears × an artist who looks very sexy but whose character is unknown.
Intention: like