I still remember one hundred and one days ago, in that a day, in the wee hours,  i gave off my best to pursue you, put a more effort to pry into your heart to catch hold of something concerning our relationship. I wanted to know, art thou One that cometh, or look I for another.

You hesitantly and quiveringly granted me my love request, eventually.

The spots' ups and downs and these good things happened during the past one hundred days of us make me miss the past, and afraid to imagine the future where you may be absent. 

You are now in Heidelberg, bussing or bicycling to and fro across the Neckar, while I am muddling along around Wu Kai Sha. I am walking before you for six hours, and the one who have to wait is me. 

It is the 101th day, and how I wish that it is the first day of us, without distance, without missing endless.