"No, no, I can't accept it!" Jian Qing'er was suddenly awakened by her fantasy. Eight years have passed. This fantasy has not become more and more faded, but is inextricable. Jian Qing'er, wearing only a pair of underwear, stood up and walked to the window to look at the snowy scene outside. The scene on the fifteenth day of the first lunar month was dazzling, but she was still the only one in the room. The room was not too cold. Jian Qing'er poured a glass of red wine, walked to the mirror, looked at her body, and what caught her eye was the lock tattoo embroidered on the side of her right vagina. Looking at the piercing memories, she smiled warmly, and the corners of her mouth raised slightly, but Jian Qing'er's eyes were moistened like this.
Concept: A love story of misplaced sadomasochism