My father and mother reflect a Chinese style of love. Implicit to speechless, tenacious to perseverance.
The man I saw in the crowd, liked him like this, wanted to make the best food for him, always wanted to see him. Waiting for him in the ice and snow,
chasing him in the wild mountains and forests, and accompanying him in the old days.
Such love may have happened in an era of oblivion.
Maybe it will remain in our ideals forever. "
Take the hand of your son, and grow old with him.
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