Turning over the calendar, Baozi had spent twenty-two years in a muddle. One night in the twenty-third year, he was lying on the bed, looking at the lampshade that emitted a faint fluorescent light. So many words rushed through his mind, but at a certain moment, as he closed his eyes, the tears in the corners of his eyes calmed down. She always thought about how to use beautiful words to tell the past, but after all, she was just an ordinary person. From then on, she began to tell the story of Baozi.
Intention: Nostalgic for the past, but not afraid of the future