In this bustling crowd, Yue Xing likes to walk aimlessly like this. Appear to everyone
I feel out of place, and the world seems quiet when I am alone. How should I explain and understand depression? Yue Xing seemed like the sun could warm others just standing there, and she seemed like a streetlight that could always illuminate a few people, except for herself who was leaning on the wardrobe at the end of the bed with bruises on her head and scars on her hands. Yeah? But you and I know everything about you, idiot.
Purpose: I have wanted to write about this novel for a long time, and I wish all of you little cuties the same.