When I was seven years old, the summer in Lingshui, Hainan was very long.
A very brave kid dragged me into the haunted house, treated me to an orange popsicle, and hooked me up.
Later I returned to Beijing and did not go back for twenty years.
Until that old tape arrived in front of me, which contained the chirping voices of two children.
I heard my name, and that person named Jiang Yu.
I went to Lingshui.
He grew up, became thinner, and became darker, and his fingers were covered with scars from work.
He is still as tough-talking, lazy, and unmotivated as before.
But I knew he was rotten, inside and out, like that old house on the beach with its walls peeling off.
I want to save him.
But the words "late stage" of gastric cancer are hotter than the summer in Hainan.
In the early morning of the day he left, he held my hand and asked me: "That summer... Was it true?"
I said yes.
He smiled and let go.
The tape is still spinning, but the singer is gone.
I wrote this song called "Eternal Summer."
It means that after you leave, the part of me that is there will always be summer.
"Some springs come only once, but enough is enough."
Intention: Silence has not escaped this summer after all