We are nothing more than an extremely humble and small speck in the ocean among the earth, the sky, and the vast grassland. Time will not change because of us, but we are always washed away by the years. When thousands of sails have passed, the shadow of the beautiful lady in the past has turned into a bunch of beautiful and withered bones, and then I suddenly wake up to what an unparalleled love, how tender and lingering, when the orioles are worried and the butterflies are tired, and the red ones are weeping blood, after all, it is just a moment of prosperity and loneliness, the beginning and end of a moment.