The first time she met him, he was warm, sunny and handsome.
The faint fragrance of tea flowers, the corners of her mouth slightly raised, when she recalled it again many years later, it was still as warm as ever, but the years had faded the color and the original brilliance. If we meet, it is fate, but if we leave, does it count as no relationship? Those fragments in memory evolved into faint notes, tick tick tick...
Cherish them even more when you meet them, and say goodbye properly when you leave, because it is really not easy to meet each other, and maybe we will meet again, and maybe we will never see each other again.
Flowers bloom and fall and bloom again.
Just to meet you in the end...