In the end, young love is not as joyful as in fairy tales. If we can all be braver, can we warm each other? Can we hold hands? Can I hold my son's hand and grow old together with him? It's a pity that there are no ifs in this world, everything is already a foregone conclusion. No matter how perfect the memories are, they turn into ashes in the smoke. Now that it has been done, why should we say why bother?