The fallen leaves of the withered yellow sycamore trees carry the unfinished heartbeat of my youth, and the autumn wind blows, carrying a sour and short-lived love... I don't know where the love started, but it goes deep, how can I forget him. On that day, his eyebrows were as cool as water, and his voice was clear and gentle. The sunshine that day was also so gentle and lingering. I remember his smile and his voice... Even if the years have obscured the memory.
That day, he was carrying a schoolbag on one shoulder, and Su Wanyu remembered that for seven years with his startling glance back, and she would wait for him on time in that small corner after school, just to see him...
He walked back and forth in Su Wanyu's youth, holding a pen on his slender white fingers and drawing strokes on the exercise book. He turned to look at Su Wanyu. The sun shone through the window on his profile, casting light spots on his face. Gradually, his appearance became pale like a watercolor painting that had been collected for many years...
Intention: When childhood sweethearts went their separate ways, who would remember the flowers before the moon and the moon under the moon?
