Under the camphor tree, it is yearning, talking and listening; it is also the most difficult thing to accept the kindness of a beautiful woman, a gift given by fate, and I dare not say goodbye.
In the playground and corridor, there is unbridled crying and the torment of not daring to look at each other.
Waking up from the dream in the middle of the night is helpless: the wine warms me and I recall my lovesickness. Time flies by, how can I steal time?
It's just like the test of neurosis: I just want to know how far can this love go, even if we are separated without hearing from each other, and with time covering it up?