"Are we childhood sweethearts? We have a melancholy look on our faces."
"Forget it."
"I remembered a sentence I read." She looked melancholy.
"What words?"
"The green plums wither and the bamboo horses grow old. From now on, everyone I love will be like you." She frowned.
"That's not good. It's all about other people." He touched her head. "We want our childhood sweethearts to resurrect and our bamboo horses to live forever."
"I don't want to be like you, I just want you."