Three years have passed away in a song, and the things I have been worried about when I was young were wrong, and who can tell clearly the twists and turns of right and wrong.
Four years of winter and summer have passed, and the boy on the road has not returned. Who can clearly see the joys and sorrows shared.
Then what happens later, when a century of life has passed twenty-three, when all the small promises are no longer mentioned, when the shy girl stands under the prosperous flower tree and is engraved into an old memory, when the flamboyant young man restrains his bright smile and lets the years wear it out like jade. This song is sung to you in the past, with your fluttering shirt and vivid eyebrows that will never fade; this song is sung to you now, who is modest and steady, and your original intention is still there; this song is sung to the last you, who is strong, optimistic, and irreplaceable. I wish you peace and joy. May you create a good story throughout your life.
He Yan, you are my best story. Pei Ziqing said so.