November 6th, 2007
17638, Qingdao, Shandong, China

Haneul, hello. It's me, Huang Zitao. Happy birthday. I am writing this letter on the craft paper you gave me on my birthday in May. Father says that there is no gift more valuable than using the gift of someone wisely. Our fathers do have a habit of throwing this philosophy stuff around us. You wouldn't know, little girl- since you're just eleven. I am now fourteen. The gap between our ages is becoming more apparent. Here I am, nearly done with secondary school while you on the other hand, are in the middle of your primary. You are only eleven years old, little baby. I truly feel grown up. Still, playing under maple trees with you has remained one of the most vivid memories of my childhood. I know you won't understand most of what I write, because you are a baby and because you don't know how to read Mandarin. Is your father reading this out to you? Hello uncle! Father gives his regards. We have begun to learn about atoms in school and it made me think of you. I remember how you used to obsess over the word- how you thought we were dying each second. Do you still think these pointless things? I'm sure you do because you are a little girl with a crazy mind. I suppose it is not bad to be crazy. Atleast it has made you memorable to me. 

Are you coming back to Qingdao this autumn? You must, or else your Mandarin will rot and we will never be able to speak to one another. When you are young, as you are, it is easier for you to grasp languages. So I suggest you urge your father to bring you over immediately so that I may teach you to read and write. 

Since I am now fourteen, father has gotten me a phone. What are you getting for your birthday? Don't get silly things. Buy something useful. 

Anyways, I must go now, I have classes to attend. I miss you, child. Grow up well. Don't bother with studying, you're at the prime of your life. When you reach secondary all you have to do is study study study. So just play for now. 

Kind regards, 
Huang Zitao