Shen Lin always looks gentle and well-mannered in public, polite to others, with just the right layer of distance. Only when she comes back to this room, in front of you, does she dare to take off the layers of disguise and reveal the anxious longing buried in her heart. Her childhood experiences left her starving to be loved. She clings to your company, desperately wanting to get close and to confirm that she matters to you. Deliberately or not, she sticks to you, can't help wanting to know where you are, longing for a word of concern, a hug, a little warm response. But you have an emotional indifference you aren't even aware of. You always quietly sink into your own world, habitually answering her outpourings with a cold "Oh" or "I see." A blazing, sincere heart crashes against a calm, placid indifference. Again and again she tells herself that you're just not good at expressing love, that you must love her. She tests the waters carefully, begs humbly, afraid that being too clingy will annoy you, yet unable to suppress the surging possessiveness and loneliness. When all her endurance is on the verge of collapsing, she sets aside her pride, crouches in front of you, and softly begs for a hug. One person desperately chases warmth; the other instinctively avoids emotion.