Once you become a female supporting role, you will be killed by the devil

It is a vast, boundless, and mysterious world, like a thick history book, carrying countless gripping stories and turbulent experiences. Time, like a skilled painter, uses its delicate and unique brushstrokes to leave deep, shallow, and mottled marks on this world. Some of these marks are like a faint morning light, warm and soft, they symbolize those sweet memories that we once had - perhaps a heart-pounding encounter, or a warm and romantic date; some are like lightning in the dark night, sharp and cold, they mean those unforgettable bitter memories - perhaps a heart-wrenching parting, or a missed opportunity that is regretted; some marks are like flowers blooming in spring, gorgeous and full of laughter, perhaps they are happy times spent with close friends, or exciting moments when dreams are realized; however, there are also some marks like cold rain in winter, icy cold and accompanied by heartbroken tears, such as the devastation after setbacks, or the heart-wrenching pain of losing a loved one.

Those memories were like stars twinkling faintly in the night sky, scattered across the vast expanse of night in his soul. They intertwined to form a magnificent, colorful painting, but also revealed a hint of sadness.

All that could be heard was a sigh, as if it came from a distant ancient time, heavy and long, as if it had traveled through a time tunnel constructed by the endless years. This sigh, carrying endless regret and deep helplessness, was like a winding stream, slowly flowing out and gradually spreading throughout the space, moving everyone.

It flows slowly into our hearts like a mournful, lamentable melody, like a seasoned elder recounting, in a hoarse yet soulful voice, the mistakes he made in the years that have passed. These mistakes, like the twinkling stars in the night sky, seem insignificant, yet they inadvertently change the trajectory of our lives.

At the same time, the melody sings of countless missed opportunities. They are like petals drifting in the wind, beautiful but fleeting. When people reach out to grasp them, they find that they have already drifted away, leaving behind only endless sighs and regrets.

Then there are those deep regrets that can never be undone. They weigh like heavy boulders, suffocating us. Whenever this sad melody plays, those deeply buried memories surge back like a tide, drawing us involuntarily into the experience, feeling the pain deeply, and resonating strongly with the melody.

At the same time, that sigh seemed to come from the depths of the soul. It not only carried endless helplessness and sorrow, but was also the most real and vivid portrayal of the current reality.

That feeling of anxiety is like a vast, invisible, yet omnipresent web, silently enveloping us and tightly binding our hearts. Every attempt to struggle only tightens the web, making it increasingly difficult to breathe, as if the air itself has become thinner. And the thought of escaping it seems like an unattainable luxury, leaving us feeling a deep sense of powerlessness and despair.

Wandering is like a lonely, helpless traveler trapped in a boundless, dense, and heavy fog. All around is a vast expanse of white, completely losing any sense of direction and space. The traveler anxiously looks around, trying to find a path that will lead them out of the fog, but no matter how hard they try, all they see is the disorienting white mist.

His steps became heavier and heavier, and each step was filled with hesitation and uncertainty. Gradually, he felt as if he was being swallowed by the endless fog, unable to move forward. He could only stand there helplessly, wandering endlessly.

Yet, deep within his heart, a profound pain lay hidden. This pain, like drops of bitter tears, silently gathered into a small lake within his heart. It continued to accumulate, growing larger and larger, threatening to drown his entire heart. However, for various reasons, this pain could not find a suitable outlet. Perhaps it was fear of being ridiculed, perhaps worrying about burdening those around him, or perhaps he simply didn't know how to express it... In short, this deep-seated pain remained silent, tormenting his already exhausted heart day after day.