Jiang Ling has loved two men in his life, one is Zhang Yang and the other is Xiao west.
The flamboyant love is not flamboyant, it is often just the breeze that passed by in Jiangling's youthful years, rippling on the banks of the Liva River, binding wickers and benches.
Xiaoxi's love is as strong as a piece of blood on a graffiti wall in the rock world, and like a mask under the moonlight, covering his expression, making it look like a smile but not a smile.
Jiang Ling is stubborn, and he would rather be trapped in his memory than let himself go.
But when we lose our lives in other people's memories, we become a wisp of smoke in the ever-changing world, a brief moment of brilliant fireworks in the long night sky.