My Ideal Is Not Beijing but You

During the graduation season that year, the breeze was just right, and you and I were about to enter the society. As the proletariat, facing the cruel reality, what should you and I choose and where to go? Should we fight hard together, or should we be content separately? What is your ideal? How long has it been since you were asked this question? However, my ideal is not Beijing, but you, but your ideal is not mine. This becomes an endless loop. All my ideals are you, but your ideal is him and his ambition to fight in Beijing. In this complicated society, will love really go bad?