My 26-Year-Old Female Tenant: Memories of a Shooting Star

A plane flies across the sky, over the City in the Sky.

When I first met her, the gears of fate began to turn. From then on, a pure-hearted figure appeared in that City in the Sky. I told her she was the woman of that city. She smiled and handed me that bouquet of roses.

But years later, looking back, it seems she was always destined to be a passing passenger, getting off this train of fate, while I was destined to become a stranger who said nothing after our brief encounter.

Her name was Jian Wei: Jian as in “simple,” Wei as in “rose.”

Here I am now, on a foreign night, missing you as you drift farther and farther away...