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The one who loves you won’t really leave, even if they forget.
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The last lesson they taught me was called “Loss.”
Nineteen years old. This Lunar New Year, I want them to have something to brag about too.
The road to postgraduate entrance exams, the road to dreams, the road to growing up.
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Before my eyes, it’s all flatland; yet everywhere I look, there are mountains.
Don’t just admire its bloom; remember that it will eventually wither.
There’s a little cat in the park, and the fish it wants to catch is up in a tree.
They just don’t realize the road beyond the wall is still incredibly long.
This little cat, fast asleep and snoring away, is the star of college—even without lifting a finger.
Amid the chaos around you, let yourself drift alone in the misty rain.
On campus after the college entrance exam, I heard the wishes written on the test papers.
The adventures that truly belong to you only begin once you step out of the crowd.
In that evening’s sunset lies the youthful time I’d long forgotten.
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I mean, it has its four seasons, and you have your blooming season.
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Youth, after all, is always about moving nonstop, at breakneck speed.
That wind carried away the fallen leaves, but it couldn't take away your vitality.
Take a closer look—you'll find the question isn't that difficult either.
The person who led me into spring is still stuck in winter herself.
I bloom as usual, and I bloom in my own way.
A few years ago, the bullet hit him right between the eyebrows, and the story became a regrettable c
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