赴你于回响之时

In my hometown, there is a tradition: children who are frail and sickly will adopt a century-old sacred tree as their "elder." Before the age of twelve, they visit it once every year, write down their wishes, and hang them on its branches, praying for the child's healthy growth. Thus, carrying childhood memories and the emotions of each reunion, I painted this letter sent to a distant place. 　　About the dazzling white summer, about an encounter that crossed temples to visit faith, and the gradually clearer call of childhood in my ears. 　　Because the feelings I carried each time I rushed forward have never faded, 　　So—you in the distance, a stranger yet still running like me, as long as you share the same feelings, we will eventually meet when the echoes reach us.