I, the author, am preparing to go to Canada to work and strive for immigration.
I am old, not good at English, socially awkward, and so poor that even breathing requires money. I don't have the ability to continue writing anymore.
I think this story has come to a conclusion at this point.
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Leaving a familiar place is painful, but a part of me feels like Gellert Grindelwald.
I cannot go on if I don't leave.
And my Chinese creative mind needs to rest, to face reality, to lower my head and make a living.
In this aspect, I am also like Albus Dumbledore.
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Everyone, perhaps until the day when I can live stably in Canada, without worrying about money anymore, we may meet again.
Thank you all for allowing me to spend a pleasant times here.
ns 15.158.61.54da2
