The heartbeat of a 17-year-old has never been earth-shattering, only the night breeze in the classroom, stacking test papers, silent gaze and the preference hidden in the details that I dare not say. Some people love passionately and openly, brazenly running towards a fruitless obsession; some people love silently and humblely, waiting for you year after year, but no one knows. Youth is half perfect and half regretful, but when they were 17 years old, the evening breeze passed by, and their love lasted forever. It started in the youthful campus and ended with the rest of their lives.
Concept: slow heat and delicate, fireworks healing