This director is vindictive.

Chapter 69 I am sad because you came.

On that day, the promotional video of "The Story of a Broken Heart" was promoted crazily on the three major video platforms. Countless people, whether they were heartbroken, single, in love, or in a cold war, etc., were all struck by this short film, just like Zhou Ming.

Why? Because it’s real. What these interviewees feel is real!

These people are indeed real people. They are not actors, and everyone can see that they are not.

Many people even saw their friends.

Because it is true, it can touch those who have similar experiences - "broken love".

In the first phase, initial results are evident.

Soon, the second phase began.

A hot topic appeared on Weibo's hot searches.

"The Story of Broken Heart" - Write and tell your story of broken heart!

Attached is the video footage of the script reading session that Chen Mo attended before filming "Love Is Not Blind", which is also the behind-the-scenes footage of the melon-eating conference.

Of course, there are also messages from the leading actors of "Love is Not Blind" and Chen Mo.

"Tell us your story, share your story. If you're willing to be interviewed, then you too will have the opportunity to be a part of the film. We're not here to make you revisit that painful period, but to help you learn to let it go. A broken heart isn't necessarily a bad thing; it could be the beginning of your next happiness. Those memories you find unbearable to look back on are actually powerful reasons for you to be determined in your future life!"

Soon many people began to write down their stories.

“When I first saw him I knew, I was done, I loved him!
When I was 23, I made a hotpot appointment with some college classmates whom I hadn’t seen for a long time. He was a friend of one of my classmates. He sat opposite me and picked up a wide noodle for me with his slender fingers. When I looked up and said thank you to him, I knew I was done.

For the next few months, I carefully edited every post on WeChat Moments, until one day he said to me, "I've read every one of your updates. I'm so heartbroken. Can I protect you?"

I'm so happy that I feel like flying.

Later we lived together for two months, and he chose to hit my body and face with the same slender fingers.

Many times he grabbed my neck, and I kept thinking about the first time I saw him. He was such a warm and loving boy, but he must have had some difficulties.
One time, my brother saw the scars on my face and started beating me up. I stood in front of him and said, "I'm breaking up, stop hitting me."

My brother was furious but still asked me with concern why I was so stubborn.

Because, for some reason, I can only remember how good he was to me.

He has found a new girlfriend, but I've been hoping that he will suddenly show up at my door when I'm least prepared.

One day he finally showed up, arriving at my house in the early morning with a bunch of hydrogen balloons. He said he had drunk too much at his friend's birthday party the night before and very politely asked me, "Can I lie down for a while?"

He fell asleep very quickly, and I stared at his sleeping face in a daze for a very, very long time (and even took some obscene photos).

The next day, we didn't talk much, and it wasn't awkward. He suddenly hugged me tightly for a while, I think it was a minute or more.
He left, and before leaving, he gave me a goodbye kiss and said he would contact me by phone, just like we used to do.

I agreed that was the last time we met. I still have the hydrogen balloon."

"I'm 27 years old and an interior designer. We've been together for six years. He treats me incredibly well, cooking for me and picking me up from get off work. He's always been so kind to me. Earlier this year, we went to see a house for our wedding. We paid the down payment together, and my name is on the deed. It was him who showed me what it felt like to be pampered, loved, and held in someone's arms.

But this year, on Chinese Valentine's Day, he got married, and the bride wasn't me. It was my best friend. I asked him why he did this to me, and he just said one thing: he was tired!

I never dared to think about what would happen if he was gone. What would happen to my life, what would happen to me.

I've always been a tear-jerker, but I didn't feel sad at all after watching a tear-jerking movie alone. I know it's because he's gone, and no one cares how much I cry.

You're at the supermarket, passing by the electronics section, and the super home theater you've been eyeing is still there. The price tag you've flipped over countless times is still there, and you're distressed, thinking that if you had started saving money since the Qing Dynasty, you would definitely be able to bring it home by now.

Now you don't have to worry about anything. If you have to worry, you can complain to others.

The fat lady at the cashier smiled and asked me why I only bought this. She must remember that when I was with you, I always wanted to move the supermarket back home. Now I can't find what to buy for myself.

It turns out that having an extra pillow on the bed can cause insomnia. I just realized how big my bed is.

I'm still fine. Time is a great healer. Until the dust covers your face and I can't remember what you look like, I can still eat by myself, eat big meals, eat delicious food that I haven't had when I was with you.

I can also continue reading, writing, and painting. Everything continues, nothing is interrupted.

Later, the fish you raised at that time also died. Should I return them to you?

I kept thinking, I kept thinking, you bastard, why did you leave, why did you leave her?
Actually, I'm not sad that you left, I'm sad that you came."

"I saw everyone was writing about it, so I decided to write one too. Actually, we haven't been together that long. We met online, nothing earth-shattering, we just met in person and got together.

Everything was so sweet at the beginning. He would drive to my city every week to spend beautiful and romantic weekends together.

He saved up all the train tickets and gave them to me for safekeeping, saying that when we get married, I can take them out and tell our children our love story.

But in the end, the stack of tickets never grew any larger and we broke up.

He disappeared without a trace, and didn't even say goodbye to me. I went to the city where he was and searched for him frantically.

Until one of his colleagues told me that he returned to his hometown and got married!

I was unwilling to accept it. I just wanted to see him and ask him why. Why did you leave without saying goodbye? Why did you get married, but the bride wasn't me?
But when I saw him again, he was accompanied by his bride. She was not as pretty as me, but she was holding a child in her arms.

At that moment, I suddenly felt that nothing mattered anymore.

At one point, I wanted to burn, scatter, or throw away those tickets.

But every time I can't bear to part with them, because seeing those tickets always reminds me of him, of all the little things he has brought me, and of that afternoon when he suddenly appeared in front of me and said, "Surprise!"

(End of this chapter)