Library

Taking the dance steps of youth, we gently count the past we have lost. In those years that we have passed and disappeared, time records every bit of our lives, those happy, sad, happy, sad, helpless, heartbroken, entangled... Just like this. We met in the season when the phoenix flowers were falling, at that dreamlike age, how should we make a choice, whether it was wrong or right, in the end we just smiled. The story slowly begins from here...