They were all sixteen or seventeen years old at that time, an age with the fragrance of jasmine. She couldn't remember many things clearly afterwards, but sometimes when she recalled the years she had been with him, her heart felt like dust was rising, and then like tearing rags.
She remembers the first thank you she said to him in the classroom; she remembers every whisper he made in her ear while sitting in the front seat; she remembers the pain in her heart after quarreling with him.
When she asked him a question, they had a disagreement, but he smiled impishly. One moment he was combing her hair with a comb, and the next moment he was serious and said seriously: "We can't quarrel."
She was helpless when she found out that he had a fever, but he still looked at her with a joking smile, smiling stupidly like that. Then he couldn't stand her persistence, so he told her in a low voice: "Actually, the temperature I measured just now was 39.8 Degrees. I lied to you about 38 degrees."
She was always at her wits' end and helpless...