The wind abides in the dust, the fragrant flowers are gone, and the trees have settled in autumn. We came to this place together and have to live together. Even if we lose everything, as long as we have each other, it is enough.
Traveling through time and space, silently guarding the things we are looking forward to, silently staring at the deep soul of the distant place, and then hesitate. The white dragon and the golden phoenix in the sky are also born in desperate situations, surrounded by fire. Why do we have our stories? Is it history that creates our history, or is it the traces of our wanderings in the world that affect the trajectory of history?
I'm just a science student, so I don't know these things. I only understand that I have traveled through time...