"Master Wuling, Rao Chunhen, don't lead the spring breeze to the restaurant. Ah Nian, you have to remember this."
At the age of fifteen, because of the warmth of his palm, these words were like the beautiful patterns carved on the wall of my heart, more like the bright moonlight held in my palm, which was too bright and obscured my tears.
My tears fell when he took the girl in the red dress to the unknown destiny, burning my countless emotions. It turned out that the red dress illuminated his youthful madness and tore my initial hope for love.
"The incomprehensible entanglement I have with you is my debt to you in the past few years."
Seven years later, I am no longer a shy girl who silently prays for love, and he is no longer an open-minded and indulgent boy. As for the girl in the red dress, she is exiled to the end of the world and is a stranger to you, and the slightly raised corners of her eyes have already fallen.
At the Chenghuang Temple Fair, we caught a glimpse of our destined lover, and a cup of peach blossom wine blended us into each other's tenderness and pain.
"I still don't want to believe that I'm just your passer-by, not a returnee."
A letter from a mountain village in Tibet came across the mountains and ridges with all kinds of helplessness and deep love, telling me that I have been with you for ten years.
It wasn't until much later that someone told me: God is immortal.
Yes, God is immortal, guarding the chaotic world of mortals day and night, waiting for us to reunite, waiting for us to let go of our concealments and misunderstandings about each other.
I won't give up on him, and he won't give up on me.
Then love will not give up on us.