Some people say that youth is a grand banquet. Youth is a journey on foot. The journey is sour and sweet, with your gentleness like the spring breeze, your heat like fireworks, and your indifference that is hard to melt into ice and snow. What's more, your growth step by step... The ignorant friendship, the hazy goodwill, are vaguely visible In my youth, I met you: under the sun, you were such a young man, pure white and picturesque, warm, with a warm smile, reading a book quietly, as if all the bad things in the world were erased, just like this, I looked at you, you read the book, time flowed quietly. At your rebellious age, your willful persistence, and in every little careless moment, you hurt her: "Lin Linyi, are we friends?" She tore at me and pushed me away like crazy. I stood helpless, tears slowly flowing down, wetting my cheeks and making my heart cold. "I never wanted to compete with you for anything. If I did, I'm sorry." The journey here carries the story of youth, many laughter and tears, and many shadows of us. We who are walking on foot hold on to our youth tightly, but we don't know where we will be in three years or even longer, what will we do, and what kind of youth will we look back on? Under the moonlight, I closed the book and sat in front of the window, looking at the fish-belly white sky, looking for my youth.