Originally, I thought that my youthful years must be as dull as water, but this was just my wishful thinking after all. Falling in love, becoming a bad guy who likes to make plans, seeking heartfelt revenge, and later fighting hard on the dangerous battlefield of life, making difficult choices between love, hate, life and death, these are all in my opinion Things that will never interact with me were written freely in my youthful years, like a brush dipped in thick ink, in my heart that was as spotless as a white paper, leaving profound traces that will be difficult to erase throughout my life.
When the sunshine is crushed, when the residual warmth left in the palms has dissipated, when the heart is sleeping in the barren land of winter with no grass and a piece of white, I always miss that magnificent past and that obscure memory. The girl sang softly in my ear and sobbed silently in my arms until it soaked through my shirt; the brother patted my shoulder and said goodbye to me sincerely, sincerely wishing me happiness; and the eyes with despair, helplessness and incomprehension, fixed and straight. Looking at me, those tear-filled eyes projected myself, as if they were going deep into the heart of my soul... I will never forget these scenes, they played back over and over again in my dark subconscious, and echoed over and over again in the hesitant and cold dreams. When I couldn't distinguish the boundary between dreams and reality and almost collapsed, it told me the meaning of youth and the weight of life.