+ To my dear girls: We are all imperfect women, yet we long so much to be noticed by everyone. Those memories tinged with a faint shade of ink become all the more precious once they're over. Everything we've been through, sweetness, hurt, trust, betrayal, honeyed words hiding daggers, schemes and plots: every scene remains unforgettable! But in the end, time has placed an iron fence around it all. On this side lies all the youth we've left behind; on the other, it rushes away with the trains heading north and south... and finally, a full stop is put to everything. Once, someone thought a story was like the black and white keys of a piano, with a clear line between them. But my dears, the youth we played in such a muddled way was missing that pure dividing line. You are all water lilies blooming in the misty Jiangnan waters of June, standing alone, apart from the world. An imperfect ending, like ink, fills Jiangnan with fullness. I dedicate this to the memory of who we were back then.
It will be fine. Everything. Status quo.