It was late summer when they met.
It was late summer when they fell in love.
It was late summer when they parted.
It was late summer when they met again.
She smiled slightly, and he slowly lowered his eyes. Not every encounter has a happy ending, and not every separation will become the beginning of sadness. At the end of summer this year, the most beautiful things and the saddest things were nothing compared to the skirt hem lifted up by the God of Love when they met.
When they first met, they were facing each other when they met.
He couldn't leave his family behind, so she turned around and traveled across the ocean. He was at the height of his power at home, and he was wandering abroad.
Years later, she regained her glamor after forbearing for a long time, and the past quietly opened the curtain.
At the end of summer, at the end of summer of that year, who met whom and who fell in love with whom.
This is a late summer story.