From now on, there will be someone who knows how to love her better than I do to take care of her.

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Back in 2013, Super Boy was incredibly popular, and I still remember the champion that year was Hua Chenyu. My sister was chatting with her classmate, saying it was the first time she had seen me so obsessed with being a fan. At that time, I really liked Jia Shengqiang. My little notebook was filled with his name, birthday, and former names, but in truth, the only song of his I still remember is "Sister," which I heard him sing for the first time.

Back then, I felt that song was a lot like my sister, so I would chase after her every day asking why she didn't have a pair of fangs. At the time, I only cared about the long hair and fangs mentioned in the lyrics, never realizing that the final line was the real stroke of genius.

I always felt that my sister getting married was very sudden. Actually, come to think of it, falling in love is also very sudden. I always felt I wasn't mentally prepared for her to get married. At the very least... I should have waited until I earned big money to give her a huge red envelope. However, I can't rule out the possibility that I might never earn big money in this lifetime, though I never intended for her to stay unmarried forever.

It seems that the story of my sister and me is one where the distance grew as we grew up. When I was bullied in class in elementary school, the little girls in my class would run to her classroom door and shout loudly, "Sister, your brother is being bullied by so-and-so again!" Then she would drop her pen and rush to my classroom, "Who is bullying my brother?!" On the way home from school, she would drag me, unable to stop crying, scolding me for crying over such small things while helping me wipe my snot. Her sixth-grade math teacher loved to hold class overtime, so I would squat at her classroom door waiting for her to finish, and I ended up learning the area of a circle just by waiting there. Consequently, after she graduated, I did very well in math, and people in class stopped bullying me.

Later, after I graduated, I went to her middle school. By then, she was already famous throughout the school; the school's grooming standards featured her front and side profile photos. When her classmates found out I was her brother, people would always ask me to deliver love letters to her. I would pick out the ones with bad handwriting and throw them away—those people's handwriting was never very good. Some even fought on my behalf to curry favor with my sister... At the time, I thought, "Are these people being idiots?" When my sister found out that the two sides had arranged a fight at the school gate, she came to my classroom and told me to solve the trouble I had caused myself. I was so scared by the mess I had made that I wouldn't let go of my chair. Seeing she couldn't pull me away, she ran out of the classroom in a rage. Later, I heard that the two groups didn't end up fighting, but I never asked her how she managed that.

She was always like a superhero, taking such good care of me. My childhood was spent between hating her and missing her. Later, in high school, because my grades were so poor, she pulled me aside to chat by the playground. It was snowing that day, and she stood across from me asking what I was thinking. I didn't answer, and I didn't dare look into her eyes, so we just stood there until the snow piled up on the playground. Then she tugged at my collar and told me to go back and drink something hot so I wouldn't catch a cold. After I left the playground that day, I ran to an internet cafe, joking to my friends that no matter what the illness, an internet cafe is the best medicine. Then I got held back a grade, and after that, I was never able to be in the same school as her again. Thinking about it now, disappointing her is much harder than disappointing myself.

When I was by her side, I always resisted growing up because she would handle everything for me. But when she wasn't around, I started growing wildly. When we were kids, we would swap phones, and Mom could never tell that the person on the other end had changed. Now, our personalities are completely different. There is a layer of indescribable fog between us, and we are each living our own lives. She loves to tattle. Secrets I tell her never last more than a week before my mom finds out, but I never broke the bad habit of wanting to tell her my secrets. Perhaps it's because deep down, I believe that no matter how strange my thoughts are, she will understand me. So, I am actually quite panicked about the fact that we are becoming less and less alike.

As we grew up, the opportunities for us to sit down and have a serious talk became fewer and fewer, like dandelions on the way home from elementary school—once they mature, they go with the wind, or they get blown away by us in one breath before they are even ripe. They drift and drift in the wind, only to bloom into a flower again in a different place.

Actually, there are some things I wanted to say to her seriously at the wedding, but I'm afraid that if I say too much, others will think the bride's brother is really long-winded, and if I say it too well, I'm worried about being more handsome than my future brother-in-law. Looking back, it seems I never told her I liked her, nor did I ever say thank you. Fortunately, from now on, there will be someone who knows how to love her better than I do to love her.

Must, must, you must make her happy.