If the meeting is the beginning of the story, then the reunion may be the end of the story. But many encounters in life are not reunited, so many stories are destined to have no ending.

Some people will eventually disappear from your life, just like she did when she appeared unexpectedly. Gone, the story is over. Some people will bury their stories in their hearts and never forget them; Some people simply forget and live as they used to be.

I couldn't forget, but I wasn't willing to hide it, so I drew a long, winding line on the map. Without any preparations, I set off on the same day, and I started a journey without asking the date of return. Because she used to ask me where I was going. I said, go wherever you want. So I'm going to follow the path we used to walk together, looking for the story of the past.

As the car drove through the fields, I turned off the navigation and let the car move freely, letting my thoughts wander. In fact, the destination is in the heart and not in a fixed place, so it really doesn't matter if you can't open the navigation. From an unfamiliar band on the radio, a magnetic male voice came out. He tells a story of struggle and torture. Maybe I'll never understand why the people in the story live so paranoid, fanatical and fiery.

"Life gives everyone the right to love, but it doesn't give anyone the right to hurt each other in the name of love...", the magnetic male voice told his story intoxicatingly. In the middle of the story, a good classic old song will be played appropriately.

I don't know where this mysterious sound came from, and I can't delve, because maybe I'm going to be out of range of this signal soon. This voice and me, after all, we passed by strange encounters. But I am still moved by his voice and story, and I am even more pleased that this voice has accompanied me on this journey.

I lowered the window glass, and the warm wind swept in the fragrance of flowers and spring mud.

Ahead, a blue-glowing asphalt road is embedded in an endless field of new green wheat, and weeping willows on both sides sway gently in the wind. At the end of the road, a tall windmill spins on its own, embracing every rush that rushes towards it in a monotonous and happy posture. It will never tell me what kind of scenery awaits me after turning the road intersection in the distance.

The journey had just begun, and there was still a long, long road ahead, when I stepped on the accelerator heavily, and the car let out a long whistle obediently, and rushed into the blue sky and white clouds in the distance like an arrow.