As It Is, Yet Not

You permeated time, like a cup of clear tea, lightly touched by fingertips. The passing hours drifted by, and little circles and ripples made the ordinary beautiful. I savored time, like wildflowers across the fields, blooming and fading without a thought. The mornings and evenings of every season were beautiful. He painted time in broad strokes, like mountains and rivers in a picture, meticulously rendered and vivid with life. His sweeping, unrestrained compositions were beautiful. You were clear and cool. I was passionate. He was carefree. ...Time permeated me and sketched me as I withered and wilted, as my sharp edges hurt others. Afterward, I came alive again. I was no longer dispirited. I saw the light and felt the dappled shadows of branches. Clear and cool, passionate, carefree: that was you, that was him, and later, that was me too. Seemingly true yet false, seemingly false yet true. When we met, whether it was right or wrong no longer mattered. What I know for sure is that whether it was you or him, I was happy… Like a family, you both shouted at me: "Dad!" Zhao Er Yu: ...Get lost.