The wind whispered from a distant place, whistling across thousands of miles south of the Yangtze River. All the pain and sadness in life will be buried one by one with this wind. The days of youth are either quiet or noisy. These scattered memories record all the things we once had. However, we, as insignificant as the dust in this thousands of miles south of the Yangtze River, will eventually be blown away by the wind of fate.
The wind swirls over everyone's destiny. What does it bring and what does it take away? It has witnessed the joys and sorrows, the rise and fall, and the prosperity again and again. Does it cry, or is it already indifferent?
Forget yourself, exile to the end of the world, and sing a broken elegy for youth. Thus, youth ends and time returns to ruins.