When the stone steps in the mountains are covered with cool moss, the newly sprouted green buds joint into proud ancient trees, and the begonias planted by hand in the courtyard bloom and fall season after season, in the salvage of time, the past about you and me gradually surface, and I finally know that in the long world, I have never forgotten you. The pretty boy of the past will eventually turn into a white-headed man. At that time, do you still remember the little girl who held a heart for you? Or you may only find out when you meet again in the end that in life, an absence is a permanent loss.