Zhang Hui said: You can't play with love.
In Qingdao, a small fishing village where spring is like four seasons, the roses bloom and fade, the seagulls flying over the sea, and the foam floating on the sea, are there any deep memories of our past?
Song Cheng stood downstairs, watching the light in Zhang Hui's room kept on, probably waiting for him, but could he still go back?
Everything will change, because things in this world are never fixed.