"I introduce myself as sober, but I am stuck in your quagmire. You are not very good. My like has put a filter on you. No one will like you except me for so long." The girl's thoughts are like a taut string. When it reaches a certain level, the string will break, and the direction of the story will be unexpected. "I like you, but not as much as you like me. I'm sorry, you deserve better." The wind will take away my thoughts about you and dry up my tears of wishful thinking. I like you, but the relationship between us is like a broken string and a broken fate.
Purpose: To write this book in memory of my vigorous secret love
