The golden ginkgo leaves sway, finally falling at the feet of Tang Song.
The voice of the first love still echoes in his ears, real and warm.
It also finally confirms that this is not his illusion.
"Boom, boom, boom—"
The sound of the heartbeat reverberates violently in the chest cavity, like drums beating against Tang Song's eardrums.
For his youth, Liu Qingning is the most direct symbol and representative.
They lay on the playground, basking in the sun, talking about the beautiful future.
They hid under the eaves, watching the rain in the sky, talking about interesting things around them.
They sat in the classroom, arms touching, exchanging ideas for solving problems.
…
She is the brightest color of that period, the softest part of his heart, and the first love he chased in countless dreams but could never reach.
At this moment, she seems to have walked out from the depths of his memory.
A clean, fair cheek; a gentle, flowing ponytail; eyes clear like water…
