2. This is a city that moves forward at the speed of light. Spinning materialism and booming vitality turn the city into an underground labyrinth of intricacies. It is an age of dagger-sharp indifference. Hole after hole is dug in the human heart and then buried in ticking bombs. The rapid polarization of the two levels of wealth ripped the souls of men in two, alive and well.
3. There is not only easy laughter and hilarious fun in our mundane and slightly confused lives. In the slow advance of time, day after day, there is a lot of pain that is like pegs that get stuck into our hearts as the wheels roll by.
4. Our pain comes from love. But our happiness also comes from love.
5. In fact, our life is such a day by day turn past. The second hand, the minute hand, the hour hand, dragging the virtual shadow turning into countless dense days, and finally converge into the long river of time, into the huge era we live. And I, and we, are among them, the smallest and most insignificant part.
6. In the dream, there were a lot of shaking green halos, and then I gradually saw clearly that it was a whole huge and quiet tree. The shadows of the trees swayed into an ocean that sloped toward the end of the earth. Rolling away in huge green waves.
7. He was like a huge anode magnet, firmly attracting the gaze of all the cathodes, including me. And I was like a demonic beast under the shroud of countless demon-seeing mirrors, in pain but also in pain and pleasure.
8. Man is really a completely self-centered animal.
9. It's the end of December. A continuous cold rain has begun to fall in Shanghai. God wrapped the whole of Shanghai in lead-gray clouds overhead and then densely began to water the flowers. The light is so dim and depressing that even if all the fluorescent lights overhead were turned on, all I could offer was an even more lonesome pale white color.
10. If our lives are filled with the possibility of another previously unknown, then this chase within the university walls, whoever meets who first, can lead to a completely different ending. It's like someone scattering a large handful of steel balls in a carousel, and until the carousel stops, no one knows who the final winner will be.
11. It's been another one of those long, gray winters - our loves, our hates, our touches, our hurt feelings. Our past, our present, our infinitely distant future. Our grass-green days of hooting and hollering, our long nights of long talks.
12. But life is never a serial. It will no longer should be romantic time, ringing sensational music; it will no longer male protagonist deep confession time, let the female protagonist strong response; it will not be such a need for tenderness and sweetness of the moment, on knocking over a cup of thick honey.