Within the campus of a teacher-training college, our young, inexperienced years held the most innocent kind of youth. We once grinned over a problem we couldn't solve and cried, eyes red, over a friend's little troubles. An unspoken confession could leave us quietly feeling down for ages, while some small injustice could make us clench our fists and feel the fierce indignation of youth.
Those little joys and sorrows, those tangled feelings of love and hate we never got to express fully, were like dandelion seeds carried by the wind. In the end, they drifted gently into the rushing current of youth, slowly settling into marks that belonged only to us.
At this moment, why not open a book? Perhaps a passage will bring you face to face with the little secrets once carved into your desk, let you hear the laughter in the corridors between classes, help you find the self who dared to love and hate, with light in their eyes, and reclaim those memories that will always feel alive.
Youth has never had a standard answer, but "no regrets" is the note we all share. Because you stood beside me, those ordinary days shone brightly. Each of us is the most precious protagonist in this story of youth.
I don't understand why the heroine's daughter is called Sishan