If I had seen the green fruits dropping from the branches in my childhood, they would have become treasures in my pocket before they even turned crimson. Now, the old tree bears abundant fruits, but they fall to the ground unnoticed, and I can no longer see the children climbing the branches of yesteryear! It is indeed a fleeting dream of the past; the young rider will not return, and as we look back, we can only see the desolate village, where there are no longer any young heroes with dual blades breaking the dawn!