In late October 2010, I had just finished my second zodiac year in my life and typed the five words of rebirth in a mixed bag, and suddenly something suddenly came out in my heart.

The passing years are a very strange word. It is closely related to the youth we have experienced, passed away, or maybe forgotten. It is like a pure dream. It exists in the years when we were disappointed and regretful. If we think too much and portray too much, it becomes the best hope.

This is a life without regrets. Most of us are like ants, traveling through the bustling city, holding the most beautiful yearning and hope every day, running in sweat with the rising sun and breeze. Perhaps one day we feel tired, confused, and desperate, and then we can't help but think of the touch and innocence that boys and girls brought us a long, long time ago, in that campus with camphor trees.

In just three years of junior high school, for us who have just grown up like a little adult, we know through some books similar to Qiong Yao, and the words about the two Adam and Eve that we have seen and heard from the ignorant things we have learned, love.

Many years ago, under the azure blue sky, was there a girl who handed you a clean tissue and wiped the wound when you were running in physical education class. Then when you returned to the classroom, she handed you a glass of water and asked you kindly: Does it hurt? Or was there a boy who accompanied you on campus when you were confused and lonely, and threw a stone at the glass of the teacher's office in a naughty way, just to make you feel a stimulation. Then she bought watermelons, held one by one, and ate without any scruples while walking around the streets.

Wait.

In the summer of July, we, at the age of fifteen or sixteen, were waiting for our grades in hopes, and we especially wanted to know where the girl we admired took the exam, and whether our best friend continued to be in the same high school as ourselves.

In high school, during the three years when hormone secretion is faster than junior high school, we can boldly write love letters to the girls we like, and wait for her on the way home, just to say a word to her. When we skip class and go out to play, we secretly stood by the window of the classroom and explained to her with our lips. Whether she understood or not, walking on the street, several boys learned to smoke, learn to drink, and then squatted on the roadside, whistling to the beautiful girls passing by indifferent to the three years of college entrance examination. In the summer football field, we were shirtless, just to knock on the girls passing by, rushing left and right regardless of danger. We forgot the time and the single-plank bridge that had invisibly suppressed us for three years.

Perhaps time has smoothed out our youthful unruly and unruly, but when the poor college years died silently for four years, we look back and find that the best time is actually our middle school years.

But we can't go back.

In the modern bustling and impetuous city, we are as small as silt grains. We look at the sky through the leaves, but we can never see the brightest rising sun. We hurriedly lowered our heads and walked with pressure for tomorrow. This pressure comes from houses, cars, and this crazy price surge. We don’t even have time to stop and take a look at the scenery passing by, and then we miss those beautiful scenery.

It is rare to be quiet. When you are in a daze, occasionally a friend from afar, or a QQ dialog box pops up, may make us unable to suppress the sudden nostalgia in our hearts. We just miss it, and we can only miss it, miss the youthful beauty, snow and moon, which is obscured by the dust with our rumbling steps.

But no matter what, in this era of material desires, as long as we have faith, we will always be more upright and more upright than following the trend, and milk and bread will eventually appear.

And this is our passing years and the touch it once brought us.

As the starting point, a small boat in the vast ocean, I never hope that the story I wrote is so sensational, nor that I hope that everyone can touch everyone. I just hope that those who like this story will have scenes and similar experiences in a certain story when they see a story that are similar to your memories of passing away, and then you will feel it, and I will be satisfied.

Three hundred thousand words, three months, this speed is very slow, but I still thank so many book friends who have accompanied me day and night. It is your support that has allowed me to persevere until today.

Thanks to my editor Donggua. I used to think that I should call her Donggua Sister. Thank you for signing this book, thank you for arranging recommendations for me, thank you for feeling the most tiring time in my wild climbing, and encouraged me to write well on QQ, and I will definitely achieve good results. At that time, I was so moved that I held my phone with my phone.

Thank you Duncan, thank you Dolphin, thank you Ye Zi, every help you have also benefited me a lot, thank you!

Thanks to the recommendations of Grilled Fish and Liangming!

Thank you Nuoyu, Asakusa, Sosa, Demon Lord of Se Cave, Follow the Wind, Zu Yifei and so many book friends for rewarding and supporting them, and thank you for your comments in the book review area.

I cannot reply to many book friends' comments in time, and some comments said a little angry because of mood problems. Looking back, everyone is actually trying to make this book better, and I am deeply sorry for this.

Back to this book, I wrote this book by myself when I first read Great Nirvana. When I handed the manuscript to Winter Melon, it was less than 30,000 words, and the outline was a short while. I thought I could not sign the contract, but I didn’t want to sign it anymore. Then I just buried my head in writing it, and suddenly I found that I really liked this story because it really had too many memories and shadows of the past, which made me finally make up my mind to write it well.

I have explained the plot similar to the Great Nirvana many times. Now I will explain it again. The parts similar to the Great Nirvana are all about Xie Jin, because I was moved by the story of Su Xiaocan and Tang Wu. Then when I made the outline, I imitated some plots. When the story was formed, these settings were difficult to change. Therefore, I hope that when I saw a possible similar scene, everyone smiled, because I can no longer change the direction of the story. I can only do such a thing at a certain time and in a specific situation. I once again thank the grilled fish for the many touching touches that brought me.

Someone asked me, will this book be TJ? I can say with my conscience, no, although my work has a big conflict with stable updates, even so, I will insist on finishing it. Even if my work makes it impossible for me to update it on time, I will still take the time to write it and write the last chapter called the chapter of Spring Flowers. On that day, in the story, when Fang Luo stood among the crowd, looking back at the journey from the west neighbor, and then sighed heartlessly: These ten years are so damn beautiful.

Yes, that's the tone.

Finally, I hope that capable book friends can support the genuine version. The more you support, the more passion I will be, and endless. At the same time, I hope that if book friends with monthly tickets find it empty, I will vote for this book. Book friends who are not capable, I hope that you can stick to click on the nameless book in the starting point every day, give a click and a recommendation.

Above, Elland Road.

2011.1.24
Chapter completed!