The most beautiful relationship in life should be when I first met him when he was a teenager.
In those ignorant young students, purity was mixed with unspeakable sensitivity, and what kind of heart was wrapped in the books and examination papers, fragile but unwilling to show even a little bit of frustration. In the long July, the long farewell. Many years later, I walked through the ancient streets again. At the far end, the setting sun illuminated the farewell person in my memory. My heart was once again filled with tenderness.