What is memory? Is it painful longing or unfulfilled happiness? Is it the memory of love or some kind of reluctance? Facing the beauty of heaven, we can only silently look at the ordinary and brilliant world. His departure, her protection, the arrival of another, the story between him and her, like a flower vine, lingers beautifully for a season, escaping countless dark and cold nights, but finally falls into the darkness of the changing seasons. Regret is not destined by God. It occurs and ends every day in various parts of the world, and finally accumulates or disappears.