I like to walk quietly on campus alone, looking at the youthful faces, the ponytails with beads of sweat flying in the wind after exercise, and the faint smell of youth in the air. That's who we used to be. I would also silently walk into a large classroom and listen to a class with many students, watching young college students taking notes seriously, or looking around in boredom with MP3 players in their ears, mobile phones in their hands, chatting online and reading e-books, or a group of good friends sitting together and chatting regardless of the teacher's colorful lecture on the stage. They would calm down for a few seconds after the teacher's angry reminder and then continue to go their own way.
I like to watch them like this, like a replay of memories. I sit in a corner and watch my past self.
I am not a person with a good memory, so I often review in this way and keep repeating. I also thought that maybe one day if this continues, when I bow my head and smile and the young students make the stubborn teachers who teach Ma Zhe so angry that they blow their beards and stare, they will suddenly appear, slap me on the forehead, and laugh and scold: "Look, you are just like you back then!"