The cicadas chirped that year like midsummer, and people's hearts were filled with impatience of expectation.
Wei Qinghuai spent most of his youth watching her leaving, and Shen Zhichun in his memory never stayed for him.
The sun was sinking, and flies were gathering around the light source. Wei Qinghuai held her wrist, with inexplicable emotions in his eyes, "Shen Zhichun, look back at me."
Concept: locust trees blooming