The dust flies across the sea, and the fate of this world remains unfinished. That year you stood alone on the top of the mountain, looking into the distance with your hands behind your back, your back indifferent and distant.
The cliffs are cut green, and the setting sun melts gold. That year you made wine with green plums and shared tea with bare hands. His expression was casual and distant.
I have watched you for two lives, and in this life, I want to get to know you.