This is the fourth time you've read your favorite novel, whose plot is so reminiscent of Anna Karenina: the ball, Kavetsky's look that cannot be interpreted any other way, the station and the train, and the tragic end. You knew every page. That night, you read to the end and fell asleep with a book on your chest.

And we woke up in the snow dust of St. Petersburg in 1838, with other people's wedding rings on our fingers: "Congratulations now Mrs. Neuman, a married lady of twenty-seven +" Next to a man with a scar above his eyebrow, he is Kavalergard Kavetsky, and her husband Mr. Neumann gets out of the second carriage. You know how this tragic story ends. You just don't know if she'll turn into that tragic ending again, or if she'll be able to change her fate.