The growth of Mo Zheliu was accompanied by huge growing pains.
The slight twitching caused by bone development during adolescence during sleep, the cold eyes and decisive abandonment of his mother when he was fifteen or sixteen, the broken sculptures and torn paintings by his father, those decisions were always made by him and only him, which constituted a pain that he could not erase.
And these pains that he thought would haunt him forever were gradually blown away in the late autumn of Great Britain. A glass of strong wine that he was not good at tasting but symbolizing freedom, a broken pocket watch that was always on time, a pen that would bear fruit every time he wrote a story and never have a tragic ending, and a pair of eyes that were always innocent.
"Mom, you are wrong. Of course I won't be alone forever."
Such growing pains were gradually submerged in the heavy rain that has remained the same in Great Britain for a hundred years.
Intention: Forget the pain.