Lilac Street

About This Novel

"No. 3, Dingxiang Street, Murong's family, private seal!" The postman shouted at the top of his lungs, halfway on his motorcycle, toward the courtyard door. At this time, the sun had just risen, but the people doing Tai Chi, walking birds, and drinking soy milk and eating glutinous rice and fried dough sticks were all gone. Those who should go to work have already left on their bicycles. Those who didn't have a good job were busy washing rice and washing vegetables under the tap at home, preparing lunch and dinner. A busy alley suddenly became deserted. The grandma of the Ding family ran out of the house in a hurry. Now the postman is getting more and more impatient. He called twice but no one answered, so he ran away as if he had put on a hot wheel. The registered letter sent by An An that day was just because the delivery was a little slow, so I had to wait for a week to get it.

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