The Fog Is Long and Slow

Mao Muqi looked at the passers-by one after another, confused and afraid. Will he be the next passer-by too? But the real him is still by his side. Mao Muqi was very scared, afraid that she would disappear like that one day, "I have never been known by anyone, so I have not been forgotten by anyone. Living in other people's memories is not my purpose." She suddenly understood that in fact, everyone should be like this. The fog is thick, even if you and I are only fifty meters apart, separated by a tree, maybe accidentally, you go to the left and I go to the right. Later, the distance is more than fifty meters. How many more fifty meters are there between us. In the days without you, I still move forward slowly in the foggy city. Fang Suiyou looked at the innocent sleeping face of this silly girl, wondering whether it was right or wrong for her to return to Beijing this time. Leaving her might have sealed away the softness that had finally arisen in her heart, but in order to better bring her under her wings, separation was necessary: ​​You have always been paid attention to by me, and you have never forgotten that living in my life, bit by bit, has always been the goal of my struggle. Let the strong you, the stubborn you, and the pitiful you be able to let go of those walls, and lean softly on my embrace is my promise to give you happiness, silently in my heart.