Love is like a swallow circling low in the sky. It goes round and round, but it still seems familiar. The swallow returns.
As time goes by, we keep missing each other and meet again in the vast sea of people.
Is it luck or calamity?
In this ever-changing era, love can be as delicate and charming as a rose, making you indulge and fall like a moth to a flame without hesitation; similarly, it can also spread its sharp thorns all over the body and prick you all over.
A dance reunited in the fleeting years, spinning and flying with the most perfect and proud posture, wonderful and gorgeous. But I don't know that after the ending, in the shadow of the backlight, there are two uneasy and bleeding hearts...