The beginning of any story will have a little unexpected meaning, just like me, many years later, in a humid city without you on the southern seaside, I faintly think of our story, the unexpected beginning, the helpless continuation, and the ending. I don't know if it's the slightly humid air at the seaside that envelops my mind, or the misty rain in my eyes. Every time I mention you, there's always an inexplicable moisture, warmth, humidness, silence and depression. I'll always hear your slightly low "I'm sorry" in my ears, which seems far away. It's like a strand of silk thread, but it never gets past.
"Su Jinnian, thank you." He seemed to be murmuring as he looked toward the boundless north in the distance. No matter what, I always want to thank you, thank you for the good things you have given me, and thank you for leaving a unique trace in my most prosperous youth.
In the quiet years that have been dusty for a long time, the figures of the past have been scattered all over the place.