When a poor school boy with a science god met a mature and sensible female Chinese teacher, the deep attraction was a fateful setting, and where to go was an unsolvable proposition. The night wind in June blew by, and he said, Teacher, your hands are not soft at all, they are like slender bamboo joints, clear and pliable.
She said, you should hold a young and tender hand, she will bring you youth and laughter.
But teacher, there will never be anyone like you who allows me to shout freely in silence, and to cry and smile when I am in pain.
