The campus was sunny that year, the lawn was clean that year, the girls smiled very cutely that year, and we were seventeen that year. I have always felt that youth that is too obedient is too meaningless, so why waste the years of twenty with a forty-year-old mentality. I think youth should laugh loudly and cry loudly. I want to be a happy madman and look at the world with a crazy smile. The girl I fell in love with when I was seventeen, the brothers who worked hard for their dreams together when I was seventeen, the lawn, guitar, and basketball court at seventeen... I hope everything about these seventeen-year-olds will bloom again in my writing, touch a certain nerve, and arouse even the slightest resonance. Now we are looking back at the sunshine that was shattered all over the place that year. I just want to laugh crazily once more, cry heartbreakingly once more, and love her hard again.
I want to ask the brothers from that year, how are you?
I want to ask the girl of that year, are you okay?
I want to tell myself that year that I was fine.