In the shadow of the lights during evening self-study, we wrote dense formulas together and talked about distant places that were out of reach. At that time, I always thought that youth would last as long as the midsummer wind, but I didn't know that the ringing of the college entrance examination bell was the end of this encounter. When the admission notice took us to the north and south cities, and when the suitcases rolled over the shadow of the sycamore tree at the school gate, I realized belatedly that those heart-pounding moments were never friendship. Summer is over, people are gone, and the unspoken confession has become the most silent footnote of this summer.
Concept: The heartbeat of youth always comes late when parting, and those throbs that are misunderstood as friendship eventually become a silent sigh in midsummer.