The drizzle and slanting wind make the morning cold, and the light smoke and sparse willow trees make the beach beautiful. The journey into Huaiqingluo is gradually long.
Snow foam and milk flowers float on the afternoon cup, and polygonum antler and artemisia bamboo shoots are served on the spring plate. The taste of the world is pure joy.
When Li Qinghuan was seventeen, he met eighteen-year-old Lin Muwei.
He said: "We are still young. I can't guarantee many things in the future. I can only guarantee that I love you and only you at this moment."
She said: "I have grown up, but you haven't yet, and I don't want to wait for you to grow up."
The seventeen-year-old love seemed destined to have an ending from the beginning, and it seemed rare that they had been together for so long. If time could go back, Li Qinghuan hoped that she would love herself more at that time, instead of the boy named Lin Muwei.
Some people say that whoever is serious in a relationship loses, so who among them loses?
What were you doing when you were seventeen years old? Did you ever have such a painful love story? In fact, when we grow old and lose our youth, we often think of that person, the person who originally gave us the ideal of love. It's not that I still love her, but that I love those innocent years and us at that time.