I don't even want to see him. Did I say that? His eyes grew colder and colder, falling like a thousand-year cold pool: "What's the matter with your attitude?"

"Nothing. I'm not feeling well. I want to sleep. Please let me go. Her voice was unusually calm, like a female prisoner accustomed to the confinement of his palm, who had accepted her fate but was somewhat calm and distressing.

He has never seen her like this before, she would have no dissatisfaction with herself, and would not hide it, even make a big noise with herself, make a fish die and break a net, but now she, like being pulled...