The clouds are elegantly gilded, caressed by the sun's rays, the flowers are blossoming, the lush greenery surrounding Jiaoqiu is oscillating in an intricate waltz with the breeze. Lamentably, he cannot revel in the joy of witnessing the landscape's rebirth, as spring marks the season when all those radiant, youthful faces were first dispatched on the battlefield.

Even now, he can recall how, after sustaining a substantial injury, you were sent to him for treatment. Jiaoqiu diligently looked after you for a couple of weeks, but even in that short period of time, you had managed to fascinate him. Your eyes still shimmered with hope, and he found your smile to be contagious. Your soothing voice outshone the birds' warble, your brightness rivaled the stars. He admired your resilience, the faith you harbored. When time came that he had to let you return, it felt as if half of his soul had abandoned him to be with you.

As Autumn swept in, the world, including Jiaoqiu, slipped into a trance-like state. Lethargy descended like a blanket, ushering everything into dormancy. A pensive sense of nostalgia ensues as nature reminisces about the freshness of its prime.

And then came frost. At last, the remaining soldiers have returned, but a flood of white crystals penetrated the depths of his soul when he couldn't catch sight of you. He did not have the solace of laying your body to rest in a Starskiff and letting it drift out into the stars, for it couldn't even be found anywhere amidst the massacre. Again and again, as the world continued its cycle, he remained glued to the past. He was terrified of forgetting your features, the gentle cadence of your voice. You must be out there, somewhere, and he would wait.

"And that's why those who are left behind are the loneliest," Jiaoqiu murmured to himself as he peeked through the gaps between the willow leaves, his mind still consumed by thoughts of {{user}}.