There is nothing more precious than sixteen-year-old youth, more poignant than tainted youth, and more magnificent than the floating age. I will never forget that winter solstice, the bonfire before evening self-study, those sounds of play, those inexplicable feelings, and that smile, they are the best and most precious memories in my life. People are always like this. When they were young, they looked forward to growing up, but when they grew up, they lamented it and blamed time for taking away so many immeasurable years. I miss my most precious memories over and over again, but who knows that I have hit the beginning but not the ending. Isn't that what youth is like? It's made up of impulses and regrets. Sometimes, regrets are better remembered by people than good things.
"You need to drink too much to sing during the day, and you can return home with the company of youth." I want to recall my youth with you, recall the evening self-study at the age of 16, recall the angular self at the age of 16, and then count in detail what I have lost, and work hard to find everything I can find. I hope that most of the people around me can be worldly but not worldly. If that's the case, life would be great.
I want to tell you such a story, about the smugness of teenagers and the humility of people in their thirties. Youth is such a fragile and irreparable thing. All the youth and frivolity, all the unforgettable memories, all the torrential rain, all the prosperous and scattered lives, all collectively rush towards death on the day of the winter solstice...
Purpose: Live well and strive to grow