"Chen Mosheng, the rapeseed flowers are blooming - it's not too late." I gently stroked the tears flowing from the corners of his eyes to his face: "It's not too late for you to come."
Outside the gray window, willows swayed in the wind, and a ray of phosphorescence suddenly returned to the sun from the banks of rapeseed flowers.
The flowers bloomed and they came back...
Intention: Poetry and wine take advantage of the youth