Standing at this corner where he had stopped and visited countless times, he still couldn't help but look inside, but there was no such beautiful figure. Looking back at the past, they were still young boys and girls who were inexperienced in the world. They may have had an inexplicable and faint affection and ignorance between each other, but they didn't know whether it was love or not. Is it attachment, or is it just trust and care? In the breath, everything has become the past. The weeping willow still casts a long figure in the sun, but that pleasant figure is not here. I don't know who is whispering. Last year, today, in this door, the human face and the peach blossoms reflected each other. I don't know where the human face is. The peach blossoms still laugh at the spring breeze...