Memory is like lavender, and the stories that once happened here are like yesterday's smoke and clouds, distant and gentle, extremely faint, yet engraved in the bottom of my heart...
In a dazed moment, I realized that the language of lavender flowers is waiting...
My first love ended in failure. When I recalled yesterday, I understood the flower language of lavender - waiting, waiting for my prince, to regain love, and found that he was already by my side...