The young man was dressed in Tsing Yi, walking slowly on the streets. From time to time, fallen flowers fell on his sun-drenched black hair, and on his sleeves, which were as simple and clean as a green plum. He had a calm expression and clear eyes as he walked slowly, pointing out the scenery of the country and talking and laughing. The romance seemed like it shouldn't appear in such a humble place, and it blended in perfectly with the surrounding scenery, just like a picture of clear mountains and rivers. However, Kurosawa Mui felt that no matter how good the painter was, no matter how powerful his brushwork was, he couldn't describe the slightest bit of it at this moment.
Even many years later, after he became the number one person in that position, every spring he would go to the Sangyu Village where there were vast streets and chickens and dogs could hear each other, and he would stand among the rape flowers on the ground, speechless for a long time.
"Butterflies are blooming on the street, and the mountains and rivers are still the same as before." People are different in the past, and people are different in the past. Because things and people have changed, this bright spring scenery is tinged with a sense of sadness for no reason. He was standing alone with his hands behind his back, tall and slender, yet exuding an indescribable desolation. If that person was by his side, if that person was by his side... He sighed slightly without leaving a trace, and the fingers clasped under his sleeves suddenly tightened, and his knuckles turned white. If time came back, that person would still not be around. How ridiculous, you have got everything, how can you still (expect) to dream that that person will reappear in front of you one day.