This morning I picked up 15 words and they all seem to me a preparation for a marriage story. The random does not seem come out with no reason but a set of troops targeting a tragedy; about a marriage between races, with tears and gradual discredit of the original vowed love. This all begins from the word I fiddle about: miscegenation. （Warning：the story here does not count, instead it is the “words” that do. So don’t blame me upon the likely inane and hackneyed plot. I admit I have nothing interesting to say. It’s all about a “helping memory” matter! Thanks.）
She never seriously disavows her love toward Z isn’t the prefabrication of her fantasy. He the person appears as the incarnation of all the culture itself, a wonderland her imagination has contributed about 50% to establish. Her argument, though, is not weak: which love affairs or marriage does not rely more or less on it? The faith toward this statement deter her from being pestered by her parents’ strong oppose to Z’s abject poverty and his seemingly (to them) turpitude. Parents always have great wisdom on against their children’s marriage intention, they always do. But you know what？They always fail strategically by making this wit looks too clever, if not treachery. For her, Z’s poverty never is a felony as her parents often hail, it is instead a moratorium of an ambition. Don’t you see that? He loiters around pubs to sell his practical dream plans, and lolls about the chair, detailing all that to that manageress. Z’s womanizing is the historical fault and culture misapprehension that now burdened on oriental women and western men; he is just too good a fellow to refuse any female soul that comes up saying “hi”. Yes, she is credulous. This is not a thing to gainsay. Her credulity, however, is of the gaudy wedding gown and not of Z the person. He is never the one to blame. How much she wants the benediction from her beloved parents, and how eager she wants to behold the scene as her mother pass her to Z with that lachrymose voice. That is what she always deems the climax of life, and one can die easily after that moment. Nevertheless, her obstinate parents make a travesty of her determination to that marriage. It is especially true when Z is always so busy, leaves her the only one to remonstrate. The communication always ends up with her failure to mitigate both herself and her parents, and her very efforts to convince herself not a malefaction in filial piety. After all, they’re just having different taste. This definitely is a misdemeanor or not even one. Anyway, she wouldn’t feel any bad after perdition because Z promises to bring flowers tonight, and seeing her lovely sleeping face bathed under moonlight. This is what Z tells her all the time, even though she never can see a moon in her room.