It's not that we don't love each other, but there are always some force majeure that prevent us from getting closer.
In the end, we are not lovers, but we are still the most special people to each other. We are different from everyone else in this world. We can see the beginning in each other's faces - the scratches on the trunk of the old banyan tree that are taller than our height, the decals on the old wooden window frames, the handmade wind chimes hanging under the eaves, the golf my father taught us to play, the scarves his mother knitted under the lamp, every bit of frustration, glory and happiness in the process of growing up.
In this life, we grow old together.
(The introduction uses some words from "Gong Lao" by Long Yingtai. If there is any infringement, please point it out and it will be deleted immediately and an apology will be made.)
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