Some people's love is like a drizzle in the south of the Yangtze River, gently and silently infiltrating every gap in life. By the time it is discovered, it has penetrated deep into the bone marrow and is difficult to separate.
Some people's love is like a lamp on a book editor's desk - knowing that it will be extinguished one day, it still burns out the last light to illuminate the remaining page at the fingertips.
This story is about an opened door, a repaired hairpin, a farewell without saying goodbye, and eighteen hundred days and nights of waiting.
About one person teaching another person - the real light is not in the eyes, but in the heart that dares not to let go.
Intention: hard work, tenacity