“…”

After Pei Zhiting left, he sat on the sofa on the balcony of the ward.

Watch the sun pass by, watch the night take over the sky, watch me become us and finally become me.

She probably doesn't want to see me!

It's a pity that I still didn't become what she liked.

That day, her little puppy was wearing a white shirt and beige casual pants, humming an English song and walking on the country road.

How well-matched they are, a perfect match, a match made in heaven.

Unlike him, who would just stand aside and watch silently...

His whole life was a contrived joke.

When they were young, every Chinese New Year, they liked to light a match and compete to see whose firecrackers would produce the most sparks in the air.

In the old, dilapidated courtyard, covered in white snow, a match was lit, exploding into tiny dots of red, crackling, crackling...

"Uncle, look, I have the most."

"Uncle, yours exploded."

He casually took out a matchbox from his pocket, took out a stick and lit it.

With trembling hands, he blew on it one breath after another as if it were a fine work of art.

Song Xijiao would be happy with anyone except Pei Hetong.

He learned to smoke when he was fifteen. When he realized that he was different from other boys, he smoked even more. When a group of brothers got together, they would discuss who was better and who could make girls unable to stop. In order to fit in, he would tell lies and make up stories, and he would find all kinds of excuses.

"Ha ha ha ha……"

He laughed, and his laughter hurt his internal organs, but he still laughed.

Song Xijiao discovered that he was smoking after their first deep kiss.