Death and life are tightly woven together, and the existence of each loses meaning without the other. On that spring day, I asked you, 'Do you think there is life after death?' Your gaze was on the little dandelions floating in the air and the calm clouds in the sky. You said, 'Death and life rotate forever; the end of each is the beginning of another.'

When the cold envelops everything, and there is no sign of life in the dry branches, green sprouts emerge again like small miracles from under the snow, shouting for life.

I know that one day, winter snow will settle on my young heart, and its warmth, like a fire fading into silence, will extinguish. I also know that even on that day, it won't be the end of the story. We will live again, and throughout all those lives, I will love you.