Summer in Xinjiang has finally arrived. The flowers are in full bloom, the grasslands are lush and green, and our love fills the air.

I wonder how far you've journeyed since we last met, and how life has been treating you. Is the one who once discovered Xinjiang with you still by your side? In moments of joy or sorrow, does the wind that once sang to you on horseback still whisper in your memory?

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