Perhaps early autumn should be such an ambiguous and hot season, like the half moon cake hidden in the desk, like the inadvertent touch of your fingertips when you borrowed my notes. If the wind is willing to speak for me, it will say that those words that I dare not say are hidden in the footsteps pretending to pass by your classroom every time, and hidden in the pen deliberately left on your desk - on the inside of the pen cap, I carved the appearance of our initials intertwined.
Intention: "The wind stops at the autumn water, I stop at you"