Time is like a river. The left bank is the unforgettable memories, and the right bank is the youth worth grasping. What flows quickly in the middle is the faint sadness of youth... The hazy is the layers of mist, the refreshing is the faint starry sky, which lamp under the west window illuminates my journey forward? Overlapping layers are the long life, and the spots are the scars of the years. Under the moonlight, which breeze is melancholy and forget-me-not, the golden entertainment of the old days.