On her seventeenth birthday, Song Yue broke the wishing bottle she had cherished since childhood, slumped on Jiang Xin's shoulder and said numbly: "Jiang Xin, I have no home."
The memory of her mother's trembling hand holding the ointment in front of her eyes came back to her mind when she was seven years old. She cried and shook her head, "Yueyue... I'm sorry, mom didn't mean it."
The fear overwhelmed the burning pain.
Jiang Xin hugged Song Yue tightly, "No! Song Yue, I'm here, I've always been here, let's not cry anymore."
The tears burst instantly, and the scar at the end of the eye turned into a charming oleander, which even though it was poisonous, it still attracted people to come closer.
Song Yue, if love is an isolated island, even if I go my own way and go against the whole world, I will never regret it.
Concept: Love is not foam on the sea