Miao's
various injuries, either oncoming, or attacking quietly, rough or delicate, he noticed them one by one, received them one by one, silently contained them, made trouble with himself, slowly grinding away, perhaps bloody, still smiling warmly, No words, no reconciliation, no forgiveness. Gentle and distant. This is different for others, not for Dong. Because of love, they escaped and came back, and they were considerate when they were hurt. They sang their affectionate songs, smiled and cried and said thank you.
Miao, no matter how petty he is, no matter how petty he is, no matter how he goes shopping alone, no matter how he eats alone, no matter how detached and fresh he smiles. This is really good.
Dong
was silent, silent. It's not that he didn't help, he just didn't intend to. When he was a child, he waited eagerly for the rescue of others, never realizing that he could reach out and complete the rescue.
Ying
loved her wholeheartedly, fulfilled her wholeheartedly, never entangled or left, and silently served him as a friend by his side. It doesn't matter if he is himself, he is the axis of life and the meaning of existence. It is rare to be so affectionate and sober, and it is rare to be so foolish and intelligent.
Le's teammates
are careless children. They see Miao's love, but they can't understand Miao's injury and pain. They only know music. Not sarcasm, just teasing.
Their years are still long.
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