My Name is Not Zhou Yongmin

About This Novel

In the summer when I was a child, the sky was blue, the ground was damp, and the heat wave was light. After a rain, the aquatic gourds, water chestnuts, gorgon seeds, lotus and other plants in the pond are especially green. The sky cleared, under the willow tree, in front of the stone mill, the sound of hammers and laughter covered the water surface, and also covered one or two empty water splashes mixed in among the aquatic plants. Most of the aunts and ladies were squatting. They were shy girls. Facing the naked children in the pond, they often turned their backs, revealing their slender silhouettes, and rubbed their clothes up and down. Children, you chase me and beat me, one violent blow after another, with your head exposed, either with a head of waterweed on its head or a mouthful of black mud in its mouth, shouting in a show-off manner, look, have you caught a fish? The aunt and ladies stopped their clothes at that moment, looked at the playing children, and asked with a smile, could they catch a big one?

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