The dreams I have when I am young are actually very common, but even the boy I like also likes them, but the story of two people being happy seems not to be good. Our dream when we were young was to eat as much candied haws a day as we wanted, go somewhere and play, make a few good friends, and then be satisfied. When the past can be brought up, will the once heroic ambition and arrogance be covered up by the sound of the waves and be splashed with ink?