How wonderful is summer, with all things lush and everywhere a scene of peace.
Cicadas sing amidst the greenery, brimming with boundless vitality.
She wished so much to be like before, barefoot, stepping on the fluffy carpet.
Lying by the window, gazing at the lush tree shade outside.
Waiting for him to return.
Alas, time cannot be turned back, years do not reverse.
"Mr. Cheney, you wouldn't let your mother down in her resting place, would you?" Jasmine Yale looked at him with moist, sparkling eyes, a layer of white mist in her gaze, "My life was originally picked up by you. If it weren't for you, I would have starved at the age of eight. You let me live an additional fifteen years in this world, and those fifteen years have been very happy for me, without too many troubles."
