When Love Meets Firewood, Rice, Oil and Salt

Quietly, thirty years have passed; Quietly, white hair has appeared in the ears; Quietly, I have gotten used to all the habits; Quietly, what was once passion turned into complaint; At the age of 30, we are faced with busy work and messy homes; Those of us who were born in the 1980s have also looked down upon the names of uncles and aunts; Firewood, rice, oil, salt, documents and emails; Hurrying steps, looking back constantly; The past is gone, only moving forward.