The youth I can think of has no director and no rehearsals. All I can think of you is always filled with joy and tears. I have a true story and I have a beautiful dream. I have cherished memories from when I was 16 to now, and I sometimes hide the simple beauty in the gaps in time.
Is it fate or fate? We have the strongest coat and the weakest heart. We are the young generation and we are the old memories.
Recall the years of struggle together, taste the laughter and tears together, and imagine the future together. One day I can hold your hand and see if you and I can still recite the poem that belongs to you and me after the precipitation.
It turns out that time has passed by gently.