That Year under the Apricot Tree

About This Novel

Time is moving, and so is your memory. What remains from time are just bits and pieces that you piece together on your own. They are profound and delicate. I don't know what else there is, but I hope you will abandon your grievances and do whatever you want in another world. One night at 23:40, I suddenly thought of her, and hereby commemorate and express my gratitude. May your dream be a horse and bravely travel to the end of the world.

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