When I first met my husband in the library, he was whispering something to the girls, his eyebrows were crooked and he was smiling beautifully. When I met my husband in the library for the second time, he sometimes had a solemn face and sometimes beamed with joy. He spoke at the right pace, fast and slow, and all the annoyance was dissipated in the storytelling. When I met my husband for the third time in the library, I saw him folding his coat and getting ready to leave. His plain white shirt outlined his thin figure. He pursed his white lips, his frosty face showed a hint of weariness, and turned to leave...