I hid my heart's desire for three years and collected them all into a celadon lamp with a missing moon.
The scent of cinnamon in the studio, the pine smoke at dusk, and the oil-paper umbrella that I borrowed from me, filled up the entire moonlight in the world, but in the end I couldn't even part with him.
Lin Zhixu's tenderness has always belonged to Qingmei Wenwan, and my secret love is the invisible incompleteness in Song Ci's blank space.
Chuxue showed her cards, and her heart was broken into pieces. Later, I went to the north to restore thousands of ancient porcelains, and then I realized that celadon can still be repaired. The heart of a young man was broken, and even the fragments had nowhere to put them.
Purpose: To grow is to learn to seal the lost love with your own hands, to accept that you don't get what you want, and to reconcile with the long-lasting sourness in your heart.