Who is hurt alone, slowly twisting the strings of longing, and the good voice gradually becomes dull; who has tears in her eyelashes, looking up at the clouds rolling in the sky, describing aging; who is looking forward to life, counting the passing years in time, and the love is deep... She folded the prickly rose, lowered her head and smelled it; he stroked her eyebrows with extreme tenderness. And I was wondering who knocked over the bottle of ink in this dark night. She was just a little girl he brought back when he was a child. She was sensitive, suspicious, autistic and withdrawn. He was strong but also gentle. He approached her dusty heart step by step, ruthlessly tore open her wounds, and then carefully stitched her up. When she finally opened her heart, he sent her away after deeply hurting her... Xia Yao: It turns out that the only thing I wanted was to find a place to settle down. Ling Yi: After all these years, it's a pity that you never really believed in me. Time has slowly worn away the edges and corners, can they still touch the original beauty...