That day Lotta saw a handwritten poem in Nangong Heqi's notebook:
I filled the rose-colored envelope with roses
While resenting myself for not being able to describe that blush
This is a rose-colored love poem
But I forgot the color
How could I forget you
You have taken root in my heart
I just lost you for too long
…
Although Lotta didn't have much ink in her stomach, she knew it was a love poem.
He coldly tore the page out of Nangong Heqi's notebook and stuffed it into his mouth and swallowed it.
He vowed not to let this poem see the light of day again. Even if he pulled it out, he would choose a dark corner.
But then he didn't expect that this poem was actually written by himself to Nangong Heqi.
A rose-colored love poem, with no love in every word, but without love in every word, will finally be seen again in the future in a slap-in-the-face way.
Intention: You are my rose