If There Is Fate in the Next Life

The so-called love is the most ordinary, like the dew of the morning sun, like the breeze blowing on the face, not disturbing, but moisturizing and silent. I always believe that those vigorous loves are often like a sudden rain, shocking when it comes and devastated when it goes. After their splendid moments like fireworks, they leave only ashes of regret and heart-rending echoes. I often wonder, whose fault is it in those heartbreaking stories? Is it the "scumbag" who turned around and left who was quibbling with himself, using indifference to cover up his former deep feelings? Or is he the coward who curls up in his memories, using "plainness is true" to comfort his cowardice of not daring to love again? Perhaps, they have all been sincere, but sincerity may not be able to withstand time, reality, or the changes in people's hearts. But I still believe that true happiness never belongs to those who escape. It only favors those who dare to pursue and face it. Love is not a fantasy to escape reality, but a journey to move forward side by side. It requires courage to embrace the enthusiasm, and tenacity to endure the dullness; it requires passion to ignite sparks, and it requires wisdom to maintain it for a long time. Therefore, I still wish—bless all the lovers in the world, not for grandeur, but for a steady flow of water; not for earth-shaking, but for everlasting life. I hope that every sincerity can be polished by time and become the most gentle companionship. May all lovers in the world get married eventually. Not because of fate, but because they always choose each other, even on the dullest days.