I don't know how long people can live, because they always give people different concepts: physical survival, spiritual survival, etc.
They had a grand and gorgeous promise to each other, and they had one wrong love after another intentionally or unintentionally.
They are bound by the promises they once solemnly made.
Flowers bloom on the other side, forever blooming with the beautiful colors of promise. Large tracts of pink rose petals fill the sky, and the air is filled with rich and tangy fragrance. Whose beautiful harmonica sound is flying everywhere, seeming to reflect a castle of light and shadow like glass. And that heart-wrenching, crystal-bright love, really existed? ． ． ． ． ． ．