Some love is like the saying that if you are well, it will be a sunny day, some love is like the saying of harp and harp, the years are quiet, and some love is the sadness of missing you every day and drinking the water of the Yangtze River together. I hide my first love in my heart, will you blame me for not letting you know? Because I'm afraid you don't know that I'm used to loneliness, loneliness, and bitterness, but I can't get used to the sweetness you give me. What does that feel like? It's not spirit, it's not beauty, it's not elegance, it's luxury! Extravagant hope, that helpless, unwilling extravagant hope.