In the summer of 2026,
Nanning was gently branded with the mark of "Sweetness" by the "One City, One Theme" of Jay Chou's "Carnival Ⅱ" World Tour.

This "sweetness" comes from the soft lyrics "I gently take a sip of what you called love" in the song "Sweet",
from the gentle melodies flowing through shared earphones during high school breaks.
Back then, we always felt the future was impossibly far, our dreams big enough to fill the entire world,
and what we called worries were nothing more than the bright red scores on our test papers,
and the ripples in our hearts when a figure from the next class passed by our eyes.
Jay Chou's songs
were the most perfect soundtrack to our entire youth,
with his unique slurred pronunciation and imaginative arrangements,
faithfully catching all our restless thoughts,
and holding the hot aspirations and longing of every young person.

Twenty-something years rushed past,
we stepped from green school campuses into the worldly life,
transforming from confused youths into middle-aged people shouldering families and careers.
The flavors of life have long lost the purity of our younger days,
gaining some bitterness of struggle, saltiness of responsibility, and the sweetness of harvest.

As the show ended,
Nanning's night breeze carried the sweet fragrance from the street-side dessert shop, gently drifting over our shoulders.
The only photo saved on my phone tonight shows starlight cascading down the stage,
blurred like the memory itself, gently wrapped by time.
I never posted to social media; some "sweetness" doesn't need to be shared with others.
It's a privately kept candy in midlife,
unassuming, undisruptive,
yet capable of dissolving quietly in countless moments when we need strength,
using the tenderness from over twenty years ago to soothe all present exhaustion and busyness.