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Sophora japonica, North Lane. After growing up for thirteen years, Guan Fengyun had never seen such a good-looking boy. It was the first time that Beixiang Yiba looked at a person and he looked crazy. From the cat looking far away behind the locust tree, to lying on the table and peeking, to standing behind him and staring, and finally to looking at each other face to face. What she looked at was the distance between her and him. The locust flowers bloom and fade, the distance is both close and far away. The September wind, mixed with the faint fragrance of locust flowers, suddenly swept him to his distant hometown. Her eyes also turned into stubborn migratory birds, pinpointing the trajectory of the north. This year's night is very long, one is dizzy in the endless sea of ​​topics, and the other is pretending to be calm and calm in the distance. When I missed her the most, I just said: "Will the wind from Beijing blow to Ling'an?" Finally, the trade wind brought good news. Passing through mountains and seas, crossing the seasons, the gaze that begins under the shade of locust trees at the entrance of the alley, meets again in the autumn sun in a foreign land - just to count, the flowering periods are scattered and overlapping.