The Evolution of Xing Youjiali

Emotions give rise to desire, and desire leads to action.

Hoshi Yukari has emotions, but she cannot perceive them, whether they belong to others or herself.

[Her black-haired, black-eyed bowl-cut classmate lies quietly on a snow-white bed. The bright red plum blossoms and hideous scars stand out starkly. He will remain seventeen forever.]

[Her golden-haired classmate, with his striking features and youthful air, sheds his boyishness and grows into a truly dependable adult. His faint weariness, along with the responsibility of adulthood, turns to ashes with him.]

[The kind, upright upperclassman who used to patiently guide his juniors and occasionally stop another unscrupulous white-haired senior goes down a road of no return, all the way to his death.]

And then there's the teacher who seems fierce but has a gentle, sensitive heart, and the lively, resilient, adorable students...

One irreparable accident after another unfolds before Hoshi Yukari, yet she remains unaware, unable to feel a thing.

Until someone finds her.

[The young lady most likely to bring a miracle to this world]

The shackles that keep her from feeling emotions are broken, and a miracle is born.

The events described in the blurb may not appear in the story. If they do, they'll probably only come up briefly in memories, so it shouldn't be too heartbreaking (thumbs up.jpg)

The CP is a certain white-haired guy.

There are some original details, the timeline got eaten, and I'm just letting loose. There may be some OOC.

I'll try to keep the logic consistent. If the characters seem dumb, it's because the author is dumb.

I say there's a CP, but I'm not sure I can write the romance well.

I can get long-winded sometimes, so please bear with me.

I'm a newbie author who keeps flaking, so don't bother going out of your way to scold me. I'll do it myself:

Writing words is great, writing words is fine, I make all the internet memes mine.

I typed for five hundred and three hours, then bragged everywhere that I'm the best.

Ask me why my writing's no good, I can't stop playing games and novels.

I talk big in bed each day, but sit at my computer and nothing comes out right.

I've got the best character ideas, but writing the story gets me stuck for chapters.

I've changed my writing style eight hundred times, green waters, white clouds, and blue skies.

I keep shouting that I want to write, but when I sit down, my mind goes blank.

The story in my head cries for three days, but when it's time to write, inspiration's gone.

No style, no plot, and the final product's a little disaster.

I'm a writer who talks a big game. Next time, next time I'll definitely do better.

(Thanks to my bestie for generously providing the above.)

Theme: Shackles can be broken.