My eyes turned red when I saw the photo on Qihuai's tombstone. In the photo, the young man's hair was blown by the wind and flying freely in the air. The sun was shining down, and he felt like he was glowing. There was a smile between his delicate brows and white teeth, and he was wearing a white-washed school uniform that seemed to carry the fragrance of flowers in the washing powder. The young man's smile was wanton and flamboyant. He could see the stars and the longing for the future in his eyes, but at this moment it turned gray.
Concept: Life is inherently imperfect