Lin Yuantang, what do you want?
I miss my home, my father and my mother, my piano, my flowers. I think about my classmates who love to make noise, the boring and happy school, and the high school where I didn't graduate in time. I think of that innocent boy in school uniform secretly holding a girl's hand in the cinema, blushing and heartbeating. I miss him, I miss him. I used to be him.
I think about my youth and my youthful days. Can you give me these?