The scattered fragments of the campus are filled with countless regrets. The unspoken confessions, the lack of time to say goodbye to close friends, the regrets left behind by exams, and the many half-completed appointments. The classroom, playground, and evening self-study are still familiar, but the regrets and unwillingness hidden in the heart cannot be repeated when I was young. They pieced together an imperfect but extremely real youth. Looking back, I am only filled with sadness.
This novel and its characters are purely fictitious. Any similarity is purely coincidental and should not be imitated.
