Tomorrow, I will be thirty.
Maybe half of my life has passed. When I was frying garlic sprouts in the evening, my husband said that maybe half of our lives are gone, and only the second half is left. I said, then you must accompany me to have a good journey.
When I was in college, every time I went to that city, it took 4 hours by car and 29 hours by train. In those days when we couldn't afford a sleeper berth, we always calculated how long we had to travel by starting from half. Life must be like this too.
In the evening, I called my husband and my junior sister who I hadn't contacted for a year. She was heartbroken. After I comforted her, he said, you are such a woman! You vixen! We are not love rivals, she is so discerning. So, okay, I'm a vixen. A vixen should have a vixen story. Where to start?