In a certain corner of the KTV, Wen Zhaohui leaned on the strength of alcohol and pressed his lower back against the rusty fire hydrant with his fingertips, digging into the blistered green paint surface, as if he wanted to dig out all the grievances accumulated in the bones over the years.
"Jiang Yinhuai, you are always like this..." The choking in the throat broke the last part of the sound.
Intention: He met the sunshine that belonged to him