They said the greatest tragedy for middle-aged men was, "Spring passes, yet flowers remain; people arrive, yet birds are unstartled." Sometimes it was one thing if the bird could not be startled, but worse still, some could not even finish peeing.
But Chen Zhongping thought, what kind of tragedy was that?
The real tragedy was clearly this very moment—
He had no idea why his wife had suddenly become unhappy. He messaged his little padded jacket, who had been with his wife the whole time, hoping she would tell him what had happened on the way to take her to the exam. Instead, he received the cold reply: "I'm not telling you."
Why did she have no obligation to tell him?!!!
Wife gone, daughter scattered! Wife gone, daughter scattered indeed!!
How else was he supposed to say he liked her?
He was a businessman. What did he know about stream-of-consciousness stuff?
Looking at his wife, who only kept sending him the same "heh heh" sticker, Chen Zhongping paced anxiously around the gym, his head covered in sweat from working out.
Wait!
What era was this? Why did he have to think for himself? There was AI!
Chen Zhongping snapped his fingers and immediately pulled out his phone.
Sure enough, with AI, the answer came right away.
"Chen Zhongping: If liking someone had a color, it would probably be the grayish blue that slipped through the curtains in the morning when you turned over and pressed down on my hair. It is not as intense as the afternoon, but it is more real than late at night. Its scent is like the osmanthus fragrance that fell onto your trench coat last autumn; even this year, I can still smell it when I open the wardrobe. Sometimes I feel like the sound