Three years ago in high school, I pursued you relentlessly, but you treated me like dog-skin plaster.
The people and things I met in the past three years made me understand that in fact, people hate dog skin plaster not because it is sticky, but because it always exudes a stink that can make people choke for miles around.
And when we meet again three years later, there is no girl beside you and there is no man beside you, just in this small city with no smog all year round, having fun and keeping each other company.
Love, family affection, friendship, or something else that is essential.