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The old things have a residual temperature, and the words are not finished. Star covenant, hot soup, meteor, all seem to die warm. Missing weightlessness, unfinished embrace, finally still starlight. Between the lines is full of hidden in the details of the wistful and affectionate. Old things carry residual warmth, words left unspoken. The promise of stars, hot soup, and meteors all seem to fade away. Longing feels weightless, an unfinished embrace, yet we still return to starlight. Between the lines is filled with melancholy and deep emotion hidden in the details. Huang Junhua composer Huang Junhua singer Huang Junhua composer JunHua Huang composer JunHua Huang singer JunHua Huang lyrics: the lamp pulls the shadow very long, the sweater collar still has old camphor fragrance, the wind shakes the wind bell through the screen window, like the half sentence you didn’t finish when you left, the jasmine in the tea jar sank into a specimen, the mobile phone stopped in the late autumn last year, you pointed to the star drift bottle, and said it was third place, now I count the light-years to calculate the distance. It turns out that I miss the track of weightlessness. You are the brightest mystery in the Milky Way. You are sighing across the light-years. The scarf on the clothesline is spinning. The moonlight strung the clothesline into a necklace. I took off the most curved one and pretended to be the silver ring you gave me before. The moment when the meteor passed was too short, like the bowl of soup we shared, steam blurs the window and blurs the answer. Some hugs can only be returned to starlight. Now I count light-years to calculate the distance. Originally, missing is the track of weightlessness. You are the brightest mystery in the Milky Way, and sighing is also separated by light-years.