This is the second year since Chong left me, and the sixty-eighth year since Cuiying left me. Sixty-eight years ago, I was fifteen, Chuang was seventeen, and Cuiying was eighteen.
Now, I'm still fifteen.
To be honest, I am unwilling to do so. Why are you unwilling? I can't tell clearly either. There are so many shortcomings in life, I can no longer count which ones make me regret and which ones make me feel calm.
There are only two things that really bother me.
One is that Cuiying doesn't love me, the other is that he doesn't love me.
There are two things that make me happy.
One was that he loved me, and the other was that he recalled me later.
Conception: