You are a passerby in my life.

     You were a passerby in my life, at the age of forty, when I was a man; you were a ray of sunshine in my life, also at the age of forty, when I was a man. Forty is the beginning of maturity for a man, because after ten years of standing on his own two feet, he has made great progress in both his speech and his career.

    However, the mundane realities of life have completely overwhelmed most men's sentiments. The romantic moments of yesteryear, the sweet nothings of the past, are now just memories. The girl he once embraced is now his middle-aged wife. The vows of eternal love, soaked by the years, have become so pale, and the kinship accumulated over the years has become the only thing holding this family

    together through thick and thin. In ordinary life, some bumps and bruises are inevitable, because no one can escape the bitterness of life. And the nagging from a woman's menstrual cycle, or the loss of taste, have become an insurmountable chasm in their world. So, in the awkwardness of poor or impossible communication, they manage to maintain this family with its young and old members.

    The wife felt the sorrow of life, and the husband grew weary of its unhappiness. A silent, cold war thus began. The woman endured hardship for the sake of her children; the man supported the family so his children could have a complete home. Both sides' exhaustion was concealed by a marriage certificate.

    Perhaps infidelity was no longer seen as a woman's affair; society labeled them as resentful wives, or perhaps as haggard women in their menstrual cycle. Men were different; perhaps their charm lay in this. Their success and maturity became the dream of some young women seeking something for nothing. They used their allure to challenge the prime of their youth. These wives either passively maintained their nominal status as wives, or exploited their charm to attract their men, or, like resentful wives, pushed their men into the arms of others against their will. And the men, because of the different wives they had, made different choices. The outcomes are generally one of two things: either the wife stays at home while having affairs, or they choose a different marital combination.

    These observations stem from my own reflections on life, but the TV series "When You're Forty" illustrates a different truth. First, let me introduce the characters: the husband, Liang Guohui, is an attending physician at a psychiatric hospital, later rising to the position of executive vice president. The wife, Zheng Jie, is the director of the intensive care unit at a different hospital in the same city. Hua Shuo was Liang Guohui's student when he was an attending physician.

    Like most middle-aged couples, this couple has elderly parents to care for and young children to raise. Zheng Jie, a perfectionist and somewhat assertive woman, dedicates herself entirely to her career and family. As someone who focused entirely on his career, Tony Leung unwittingly placed the burden of life almost entirely on his wife, Zheng Jie. This led to long-standing friction and conflict, exacerbated by a lack of communication and an inability to communicate effectively. However, their love remained strong.

    Tony Leung was diagnosed with cancer and given only six months to live. He didn't want to tell his wife, hoping to spend his final moments peacefully. Unaware of his condition, Zheng Jie continued to dedicate herself to their family, giving everything and maintaining control over everything, including upholding her husband's dignity. Then

    came Hua Shuo, a secret crush born from years of admiration for her teacher, which finally surfaced after she learned of Tony Leung's illness. Hua Shuo was a very innocent young woman; she loved the married Tony Leung. Initially, her intention was simply to accompany her teacher, who had little time left, or to use her love to awaken a miracle in him. Traces remained. However, Liang Guohui's worsening condition did not improve despite her love.

    For love's sake, she told Zheng Jie about her teacher's illness, leading to a touching scene: two women, seemingly incompatible, joined hands to help Liang Guohui for the man they both loved. Liang Guohui survived, perhaps not because of love, but because the tumor was benign.

    Liang Guohui survived, but the two women who once stood together for love began their rivalry. Although Liang Guohui disagreed with the divorce, Zheng Jie chose to withdraw, and they divorced. Hua Shuo may have played a role, but the main reason for the divorce was likely the lack or inability to communicate between them.

    After the divorce, Zheng Jie quickly found new love in the relief of her new life, but the happiness was short-lived. Liang Guohui chose his student, this pure and devoted girl, but did not give Hua Shuo a deadline for marriage. Hua Shuo

    's eyesight was damaged by Liang Guohui's brother-in-law (an alcoholic). He lost sight in one eye. Perhaps out of guilt, Liang Guohui proposed marriage to Hua Shuo, but Hua Shuo objected. For true love, no one would choose a relationship based on charity; this was unacceptable to someone who pursued love above all else.

    Later, Hua Shuo regained her sight thanks to a donation from Zheng Jie, but after her recovery, she felt an insurmountable chasm between her and her teacher. Liang Guohui and Zheng Jie were divorced, but the deep-seated connection remained. This was something that had subtly developed over more than a decade, naturally formed and unbreakable.

    Hua Shuo chose to leave, wanting to return Liang Guohui to Zheng Jie. She left, with a lingering attachment, a silent sorrow, and a pure tear. Her departure was a nameless loss for Liang Guohui. He knew he couldn't find a reasonable reason to keep this student, not because of her desire to leave, but because he couldn't give her the promise she longed for. Even if it was a promise made against one's will, it's unfair to someone who prioritizes love.

    Liang Guohui and Zheng Jie remarried because their hidden feelings needed to be rekindled. I know this ending sets the tone for a happy life; their reconciliation seems to offer a grand finale. However, this poignant feeling is perhaps what makes it all the more unforgettable. I think for Liang Guohui, he may never forget another woman. She was like an angel, coming to earth just to see him. She was a passerby in his life, yet she was also a ray of sunshine. The passerby taught him about life, and that ray of sunshine warmed him.

    I know that fulfilling such a love story might turn it into a fairy tale. The artistic value would be greatly diminished, but is it really the value we pursue in life to have such a pure young woman sacrificed to highlight the harsh reality? This kind of tragic love leaves us with endless sorrow, and leaves life with only two conflicting sentences: You are a passerby in my life, and you are also a ray of sunshine in my life! This might be the wisdom of a man at forty, the wisdom of maturity!