For him, fate was such a shallow thing. His admiration at the age of sixteen was only lost in the bruises of youth. After that, he could no longer appreciate the steady waiting with his burning eyes. And for him, the fate is too deep. The blood and tears of red beans, and the colorful life, just because of his gentle look back, at this moment, the love does not know where it started, but it goes deeper and deeper. Me waiting for you is probably my best promise; protecting me is probably your best tenderness.