A Small Courtyard Filled with the Chirping of Cicadas

About This Novel

To the east of the urban vegetable market, there is an old locust tree curled up under the decaying old city wall. Like a dying old man, his back cannot bear the weight of the years and keeps digging into the ground. He doesn't know when it will arch into the ground. In spring, its thin palms tightly grasp the sparse green leaves and milky white locust flowers, which is somewhat full of life. In autumn, the sparse branches combed by the cold wind look like the long and gray beard of the old man living under them.

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