Mo Yanyu would open her diary again and again, and recall the throbbing in her heart when she was young again and again.
If she could do it all over again, she would definitely express her love for her.
The boy who makes people blush just by looking at him.
The boy who went halfway around the playground to create chance encounters.
Whose youth is not troubled, and whose youth can rejoice.
I envy some people whose words last a lifetime.
But she thought: This is the end of it.
Purpose: to pay homage