My name is Su Qinghe, and I have seen the best spring in my life.
That year, the Beijing Lantern Festival was full of lights and I got lost in the crowd. It was Xie Qingyan who bent down to pick up the hairpin for me.
His white clothes are in the wind, like the spring breeze in his arms. At that moment, I thought he was coming to pick up the rest of my life.
He said: "Qinghe, when I come back, Shili Hongzhuang will marry you."
I believed it, guarding the empty city, waiting for the clear crops one after another, and one spring after another.
Later, when war broke out, he put on his armor and went to war, never to return.
When the letter came from home, there was only one line: Xie Qingyan died in battle.
The spring breeze crosses the mountains and rivers every year, greening the south of the Yangtze River and warming the old city, but it can never return to the Xie Qingyan.
I once saw that he was full of energy and his eyes were full of spring breeze.
Now spring is everywhere in the world, but I will never see spring again.
Because my spring has died as early as the day it turned into wind and sand.
Concept: The destruction of love and commitment and the eternal pain of separation