What's my name, you ask?
I don't have a name. . .
Would you like me to take a closer look?
It seems to be a failure.
Why?
Because the first words I heard after I became conscious were: Ah, it's an imperfect failure, what a pity.
You ask then? Then I was thrown onto a pile of cold hard objects.
You and I look alike,
Would you like to help me think of a "title"?
Beautiful wind,
Remember Meifenglan's previous failure,
Three days after March 1st, I crawled out from a pile of scrap metal. . .