This is not a tragedy, because there is a continuation of it, but I don't want to continue writing. I think it is enough to stop here.
The best-selling book at the book signing that day was called "The Eight Light-Year Feast of That Summer". Xia Xiaoyou read it over and over again while nestling in Mo Anyu's arms, and finally couldn't help but burst into tears. Those beautiful youthful past, the frivolous and wanton publicity of youth, whose old days belong to whom.
That summer, we were silent amidst the hustle and bustle and grew up in loneliness.
That summer, we passed each other but never forgot each other.
That summer, the eight-light-year feast of our youth came to a grand end.
Conception: