“Miracle! It’s a miracle!” 
Why, who makes much of a miracle? 
As to me, I know nothing except for miracles. 
Whenever I walk the streets of Chang Ning, 
Or dart my sight over the roofs of apartment buildings toward the sky, 
Or wander with bear feet along the beach just by the edge of the water, 
Or stand under the sun and feel the burns on my skin, 
Or sprint under the shades until I cannot catch my breath and the taste of rusted metal reaches my throat, 
Or birds and insects hidden in the trees and grasses making noises, 
Or the look from a stranger on the metro, 
Or feeling the motion of my jaws as I chew on food, 
Or sitting at the dinner table eating dinner with my family, 
Or talking to friends about everything until there’s nothing to say but just laughter, 
Or staring at the ceiling when lights are off, trying to fall sleep, 
Or laying on the grass, feeling the itchiness on my back, 
Or my fingertips gently gliding through the keys of a piano, black and white, 
Or when I look at the sun, the brightness forcing me to squint my eyes, 
Or feeling the friction of my pencil to the paper, 
Or heavily breathing after a long-distance run, like the first few breaths after coming out from a swimming pool, 
Or the feeling of drinking ice-cold Sprite right after a large bite of spicy noodles, 
Or performing on-stage, when I look down, I can see nothing but the darkness, 
Or tilting the watering pot until water comes out and seeks into the soil, then to the stems, at last ending up in the leaves, 
Or standing next to a stranger on a crowded metro, listening to each note that is leaking from their headphones, 
Or hugging my dearest friends, feeling each ounce that they’re pressing into my back. 
 
Miracle! 
It must be a miracle! 
But I’m not in Disney, 
I’m in Shanghai city. 
It’s not magic, 
but it’s romantic. 
 
I’m not the princess in a movie, 
I don’t make princes love me at first sight of beauty. 
I’m not Fairy Godmother in Snow White, 
don't turn pumpkins into carriages, such a surprise. 
I don’t have Genie, no three wishes, 
can't become rich, I’m washing dishes. 
Although there isn’t magic, 
but I’m not going to panic. 
 
But, 
I wished I had magic. 
I wished there was a miracle. 
His breaths, till this day, still linger around me. 
His face, till this day, still lingers around me. 
His voice, till this day, still lingers around me. 
But, 
His hopeless eyes, till this day, still linger around me. 
His failures, till this day, still linger around me. 
I still bring him with me, 
but I wished, 
at that moment, 
when he puked blood, 
when he couldn’t even breathe, 
when he looked at me, desperately, for help, 
when he used his last few breaths to come to me and rested on my laps, 
feeling each ounce of him, 
feeling his breath getting harder and stiffer each time, 
feeling his body turning from warm to cold. 
So cold. 
His entire body, so cold. 
I wished I had magic, 
at least for once in my life. 
I wished there was a miracle, 
at least for once in my life. 
 
But everything, 
is already, 
a miracle, 
itself.