Autumn sounds like the maples are falling, but the chrysanthemums are blooming. In the sadness of parting, much love melts into the rain; in recalling each other, the scenery remains as late as autumn.
Encounter is a kind of fate, and separation is also a kind of fate. If I hadn't met him, or if I had met him but couldn't stay together, I wouldn't be more lonely than before in the vast sea of people. Yifeng always comforts himself like this.