Don't Pull My Red Scarf!

At a wine party, she and I met unexpectedly, and we drank new glasses to pay homage to the old friend. We once chased the evening breeze in the fields and shared a flower umbrella after the rain. I would walk her barefoot across a pond full of frog sounds, and she would grab my ears and laugh sweetly, and her laughter would shatter the moonlight in the pond. At that time, I called her a crazy girl, and she called me a little bad boy. We were once as close as water, but under the burning cold of desire, our hearts had long been frozen. How should I face her, and where should I go...