Ode to Watermelon

About This Novel

Chen Jiu will never leave this year. He made up his mind to grow watermelons in his three-thirds of an acre of land. Although the sound of firecrackers can still be heard sparsely, the red confetti on the ground is like plum blossoms blooming in the snow, the pungent smell of sulfur still lingers in the air, and the Dafu characters on the door are still dazzling and bright, these migrant workers who have been away all year round have already begun to take action. They were happily dragging trolley cases like scooters, crashing, crashing, crashing, leaving messy footprints and fine marks on the snow, intertwined and intertwined, turning the red plums in the snow into dead flowers and willows. According to the saying in the countryside, as long as February 2nd is not out, it is a new year, but who can be patient? Their restless hearts have long since landed on the telegraph poles in the city like little birds.

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