At first, Song Yizhao stood at the door of the breakfast shop and looked at Yan Shuang, whose scarf had fallen a little not far away. The hand holding the rice ball was about to move, trying to cover the cold white and slender neck.
Later, Yan Shuang stood on a strange but familiar street corner, staring greedily at her former lover.
Memories are the extension of pain and the parallel line of forgetfulness.
"Azhao, I think we not only have the memories of the past, but also the future."
Purpose: Cherish what you cherish