In July, the fire of summer blazes, and the heat reaches its peak. The scorching sun shines like a torch, casting light upon the unwavering backs of those who strive. The constant song of cicadas is summer’s battle drum, urging forward momentum; the rippling waves of rice fields are echoes of time, responding to toil and sweat. The resolute should be like the blazing sun—though it burns, it illuminates all; and like the eagle soaring against the wind—rising higher with each gust. Time speaks not, yet it records the will of those who walk steadily; summer knows no rest, yet it is the very season for dream-building. May you, beneath the searing light of July, fear neither heat nor hardship, sweat boldly, and waste not a single moment of your youth.