Youth on the Green Vine

It's not a story about ups and downs, it's as plain as water, the occasional waves are just a touch of dust in the blind spots of memories, and there is a touch of sadness in the breath. This is just youth, no different from any past that cannot be returned in time. We have lived, lived in spring, like the harsh winter, and like Fu Dongqing, looking at the last spring from a distance, but growing old in winter, because we can't see it, and remember the regrets of a lifetime with longing. This is the first love, and it is also missed. Love came that year, but died on the ivy vines. All the joys and sorrows gathered and dispersed. It was not that I didn't care, it wasn't that I didn't love, but that I was thinking about someone, but like the wind blowing the ivy: I hesitated and didn't dare.