Immortal Sorrow, Immortal Hatred

My name is Zhang Ciwu, a person who once lost his identity, and... I have never seen the light of day in Ciwu. I wonder if there is any point in wallowing in a cycle of memory loss? I wonder if when autumn never dries up and spring is ever present, all the people I love will come back? I even forgot about the meaning of circulation and the original intention of doing all this in the first place... I started a long search, looking for the traces left by the cycles... I started the journey of saving, saving the regrets left by repeated cycles...