The delicious food, the beautiful scenery and the sky are not as good as you in front of the mirror. The lost beauty when I was young and frivolous, the twists and turns of my mind in the middle-aged boat, the twists and turns of fate, endless love and hate, fierce pain, and pity. I stood in front of the mirror, recalling the three silent mouth shapes you made behind me in the mirror. What was broken in my throat was not a confession, but a farewell. In the mirror, there is our lost youth and confused love. If it were not for the reflection, it would be a waste of time.