I write a novel for the person I like. The regret of secret love is that I knew your name, heard your voice, looked at you, knew your tenderness, but couldn't be bolder. In the end, we ended up with regrets. The wind on the playground and his eyes became my whole summer. The most regretful thing is that I didn't read the book well, I didn't play the game well. I have never been firmly chosen. I know it's you by my back, I know it's you by my shoes, I know it's you by my walking posture, I know it's you by my clothes.
Purpose: I write novels for the people I like