Love is just a withered leaf falling into the world of mortals, swaying and falling, and falling into the palms of those who cherish it and those who don't. Or be engraved in love and hidden in your heart. Or be engraved with injuries and have their flesh and bones ripped away. Or be gently laid down and buried in the soil. Maybe one day, you see a figure chasing the setting sun and suddenly stop, and then when it goes away, you will remember that I loved and hated you on that day and that moment. That sword that robs our love, is it you or me who holds it?