Rain farmer. And today, thirty years later, you finally left me. I am over fifty, and you are also past your forties.
I always think of three months before you left. We both have frost on our temples. I looked at you and said with a smile, Lao Dai.
You are just as stunned as before. So many years have passed by, one song a day, and the songs are full of peach blossoms. Then you pat me on the shoulder. You said, Lao Jiang.