Maybe they were all night breezes, which blew particularly gently into that summer and taught the eighteen-year-old Jiang Zhizhi a lot. It was us at the beginning, but it was not us at the end, but the tenderness at that time was really tender. In the end, they left gently like the night breeze, but only the twenty-year-old Jiang Zhizhi was left to reminisce about the tenderness.
Intention: Heartbeat may not be true love, only taking your time will show sincerity.