It was like a revolution in my mind, both physically and mentally, and in terms of attitudes towards life. I deeply feel that I have wasted too much time, such precious time, there is nothing to exchange for it, and anyone who knows that such a violent thing has happened to me will feel deeply sorry for me. I began to re-plan my life and attitude towards the opposite sex, and I felt that men and women should express themselves to each other by doing Ai, rather than being suppressed by annoying shyness. With my own redemptive mission for the mistakes I have made, I like to share a bed with a woman more and more, and I always try my best to retain the feeling of that moment, trying to never forget it; But it always backfires, and after just a day or two, or even as soon as the two sides turn around each other, that feeling begins to fade, and sometimes even forget it completely.

I began to immerse myself in the fascination of the opposite sex, and in the end, I found that no matter which one I had a skin-to-skin relationship with, there was always a trace of the feeling I had for Hai Linlin in the first communication with her, and that feeling was like a red thread penetrating between our combined bodies, floating in the brains that were blank because of excitement, and the bright red was extremely eye-catching. I started with the piano teacher, the young mother, the girl I met on the bus, Hai Linlin's best friend, and my classmates in the same studio in college...... Of all the Neodymium people I've ever experienced, they have different styles, distinct personalities, and different performances in the bed, but they all feel like the same model cast with timeless abrasives. As my experience increases, I think I know more and more about the Neodymium people, who are born with love, but who are reserved because they are by nature. They are actually full of energy, and the only opportunity they have to wait for is to let the person she is willing to give to guide her to release this energy. Therefore, behind those reserved personalities, there is actually a passion that can never be resisted, and all I have to do is to take the initiative to open the door that blocks their hearts.

I was thrilled to discover this hidden philosophy of life for the first time, and I desperately needed to put it into practice to confirm that it was indeed indisputably correct. I first used it on a twenty-one-year-old girl, and the first time I saw her at the city's largest, cheapest clothing market, I knew she was in a state of depression caused by love, and everything she saw was colorless, so she couldn't choose what she liked. I deliberately collided with her at the mouth of the escalator, so as to make eye contact with her and tell her that I was sorry in a soft voice; Later, she collided with her at the mouth of the escalator on the other side, and this time she said she was sorry and still saw that it was me. I followed her into a random block, and as she picked out a dress, I said that it didn't suit her, and that the temperament she exudes now is not suitable for wearing brightly colored clothes. I ended up choosing a striped coat for her and offered to pay for her, but her resistance to strangers made it difficult for her to accept what I was doing, and I turned around and walked away. I caught up with her.

"At least I chose this dress for you." I said, "That's it, you should talk to me." ”

She said that there was nothing to talk about, saying that I exuded a temperament of scare|thought, and she was disgusted when she looked at it. It also inspired me to rise to the challenge, knowing that she was just showing an indestructible protective layer on the outside, but she was actually vulnerable on the inside. When she finally agreed to add each other's social apps, I knew that the results I wanted would be back immediately. The second time she asked her out, she opened up to me, scolded her ex-boyfriend for his ingratitude, gave him the first time, they only had sex five times, he got together with his teacher and broke up with her, she felt like a fish bone that had been eaten. The third time we met, we were lying in the bed of the hotel together, she was exercising hard, enjoying the venting, and swearing in her mouth. She said that my ex-boyfriend and I felt completely different, and that she couldn't tell which one felt better, so she tried again and again, and until dawn the next day, she still couldn't tell the difference. We all know what each other is thinking, I am trying to extinguish the fire in my heart, and she is trying to alleviate the hatred of being abandoned. We tacitly knew each other, like old friends who had a tacit understanding, and we never kept in touch again the next day.

Sometimes, I wandered between several neodymium people at the same time, and once in a week I was with four neodymium people, and I couldn't tell who was who. Once, I lay down with a beautician, and I didn't remember what her name was until I finished doing it, so I could only call her "beauty master" all the time. She said she wasn't used to calling her like that, and wished I could call her by name, but I didn't know what her name was, so she cried all night, wishing she killed me and shoved the body under the bed. Another time I reversed the identities of two women, one of them sold socks and the other worked in finance, two professions that were completely unrelated, but they were still confused by me. And, after sitting with them a few times, I went to her shop with her, only to find out that I had misremembered their names. And all the astonishing linguistic coincidences didn't make us realize that I had made this obvious mistake.

There is also a young nurse who always looks at the world with the mentality that everyone in the world is sick. When she gave me an injection, she pricked the needle and screamed in pain. She said I was working hard - it was all my fault, she wiped my pants down and patted my skin to relax. We had dinner that night, and she was as lively as a bird that had just come out of the nest, chirping and jumping up and down the drain of the city wall. I was in a dark corner under the city wall, and she responded enthusiastically, more impatient than I was. We were unprepared to be under the wall, and we soiled her trousers; After that, she went to the hotel for another night, and she kept acting in a hurry as if she knew that the next day would be the end of the world.

During the time of Hai Linlin's illness, I was very worried about it, but I still couldn't restrain my hope for the new life, and I was entangled with a female writer after work for a few days. She was married four times, each of which lasted only one year, not more than one day, no more than one day, and one suspected that she was doing some kind of social or mathematical experiment. We met at an open-air concert where the city orchestra was playing Tchaikovsky's Sixth Symphony, and I invited her to spend the night with her, with sincerity and without any impurities. But she didn't promise me until we met for the fourth time, but instead of going to the hotel, to her house. The house was the compensation she received after her divorce from her second husband, and a book was scattered on the sofa in the living room and the bed in the bedroom. We were in a bed full of books, and the books would be pressed under our bodies, and neither I nor she would pull the books out from under our bodies and throw them somewhere I don't know. That night, I just found out that Helen was sick, and my mind was filled with the miserable images of her frail lying in bed battling her illness, as if I was watching a movie that was about to end in tragedy at the last moment. I couldn't send her a message wishing her recovery, so I could only numb my kindness caused by love by constantly doing Ai with the female writer.

"People have good and bad luck." As I moved, I said, "I hope everyone in the world is healthy." ”

"Don't show your pedantic side." She gasped for breath and said, "Everyone gets sick and dies." ”

She invited me to travel with her to the west, and she was going to write a story about a poor woman who died of lovesickness during the trip, and she showed me the outline she had written, and said that only when she came down from me or I came down from her, she would integrate herself into her work, enter the state of writing with emotion, and give the protagonist a miserable ending with God-like compassion. I told her that I needed to work hard to save money to buy a house and marry a daughter-in-law, and that I was no longer the right age to travel to the mountains and rivers, and that I needed to keep bowing to life, which was a sign of my maturity. I dropped her off at the airport on a weekend afternoon, and the last image I had of her was when she took off her sunglasses and went through security at the security checkpoint.