—— A girl who can hardly burn me up even she is always driving me crazy.

—— A girl who have mental telepathy with me. We always say the same words in the same time even we may not be together all the time.

—— A girl who I miss time to time. I will feel empty if not contacting her for some time. There’s no big reason every time I call her, just would like to say “I’m missing you.” to her via the phone, and text her just for asking “what are you dong now?”.

—— A girl who gives me sense of security. I will forget all the unhappiness when hanging out with her; I will be calm and comfortable when talking with her no matter how afraid or nervous. So I will disturb her everytime before important exams and interviews.

—— A girl who always surprised unexpectedly. The Sweet Dream perfume of Anna Sui, one of my birthday gift from her, used up her whole month budget just because I pointed it to her when we were window-shopping; rushed into library to looking for references for me in so hot a day which my mother was even moved. Sometimes this kind of surprise are really beyond my imagination and expression.

—— A girl who gave me too much definition of life:

Sweet= the pie of Mcdonald’s shared with you in every winter night;

Romantic= stand in the lamplight of the church on Wangfujing street with you, hand in hand;

Happy = hang out together on Pingan street side by side late at night, against the cold wind;

Content = share the limited space of your dorm bed with you while wear your pajamas and whispered staring at the upper bedplate;

and Absurd = be forbidden to entry your dorm by the warden then headed your home late at night, and sleep on your sofa head-to-foot with you.

This is the nineth year since we met. We survived the “seven-year itch”, hooray~~

Let's go travelling together some day, to your dreamed Xinjiang and Tibet. Let’s sit on the ground shoulder to shoulder, experiencing that famous poem of Tsangyang Gyamtso:

A moment gone, hoisting the wind-horse banners— but not to beg good fortune… only to welcome your return.

A day gone, raising the sacred boulder pile— but not to accumulate virtue… only to cast a stone in your heart's pool.

A month gone, setting all the prayer wheels turning— but not to achieve transcendance… only to brush your finger tips.

A year gone, prone in the dust of the mountain road— but not to make obeisance… only to press into your warmth.

A lifetime gone… turning and turning, mountains, rivers, stupas— but not to seek rebirth… only to meet you along the way.