Ten Miles of Spring Breeze Is Not as Good as the Journey with You

Time is ruthless, taking away all the good things in a hurry, pushing you and me to the end of the story. Why is the time like a song, it can neither be paused nor repeated singly. We are ultimately prisoners of time and years, and can never choose freely. The fleeting years are clear and shallow, Time has ridiculed the persistence of the past, Time is pale and waiting without regrets, Everything becomes dull, We are moving step by step towards the wasteland where things are different and people are different. Standing on a crowded street, Is it to the end? This city, I was left alone in the chaos.