The flowers are blooming and soft, the weather is sunny, everything is beautiful, and a feeling should also be warm.
Even though time has accumulated fragments of memory, I still remember that I spent more than 400 nights writing an insincere letter to a person who does not belong to the future.
Maybe my obsession is too much and only myself is hurt, so I should let it go, right?
Wutong trees, midnight rain, spring again, thank you for allowing me a beautiful time.