Youth is desolate, and there are patches of desolate land. I am so glad that I finally met you.
I can still kiss you in the mottled years, separated by time and space.
I can still think of you in a corner of the bustling city, in the cold sunshine of winter.
Love makes people live and die, being together is like a seven-year itch, but not being together is just a glance away.
But when we met again, after countless time and thousands of explanations, unfortunately, it was just the old affection.
Concept: Ordinary people's counterattack, deep-rooted love