In the beginning, calling me a young boy was a far-off youthful yearning. Nowadays, calling me a young boy feels like a tease from a strange aunt.
Year after year, the boyhood on the other side of the dimensional wall is timeless, but the girl here is nowhere to be found.
Sheng He was still in an unseemly manner, and it was beyond my control to end up like this. It was all the fault of the heroine (blame the blame).
To the immortal Lord, the aging girl, and these eight years.
Another late birthday congratulations.
Conception:
