After all, he was already a stranger, wasn't he? He was just in front of her, separated by this glass, separated by this distance of three or four meters. But she seemed to be looking at him across all the years and youth. He is laughing, he is waiting, he is singing deeply. How happy she was, she never thought she could meet him again. This luck was already too luxurious, and she didn't dare to exchange it at any price. How satisfied she was that she could still look at him quietly like this, even though he couldn't see her at all, even though all he could see in his eyes was the smiling face filled with tears, sitting not far from him. He sang so beautifully that he even let go of the light and stopped turning his eyebrows. If it weren't for the tears that were about to overflow from her eyes, she thought she could keep hearing like this forever. If he hadn't been right in front of her at this moment, so close that time seemed to burst into pieces, she would have thought that she would have stopped waiting for him, that she had never been waiting for him.
She still remembered that he always said in the past that love was just a figment of desire, but she forgot to tell him that it was always true, but she still took it back despite how much she wanted to grasp it.