"Holding the hand of the son, carrying the old age with the son"
What I once thought was a deep nostalgia turned into dust in an instant
My infatuation, your thoughts, his love. In the end, it can't be achieved - fate.
When you look back and smile, you will neither overwhelm the country nor the city. What we are fascinated by is the fate that the three of us cannot be entangled with.
Is it your hair or his tears that are wrapped around your fingers?