The world says spring is when all things revive, and also the season for love. In this season of revival, I shook off the filth and mud I’d accumulated over winter, crawled out of my hole, rubbed my eyes that had spent years in darkness, steadied my mind, and hoped to see the outside world clearly again. At the very least, in this season of spring breezes, I ought to follow the trend and do the things I’m supposed to do. The sunlight above was blinding, the wind hitting my face carried the breath of life. Once my vision settled, I saw the source of the great light—besides the sun above, there was something gleaming gold on the ground. It was a book. On its clean cover were just two lines: a big title, SPPL, and below it a subtitle: alice the magical conductor. Nothing else.