I am doing wrong, doing whatever is wrong, I live in Fuzetang, look... Fuzetang's broken signboard is swaying in the autumn wind, "Fuzetang" is missing a "ze" and becomes "Fuzetang". Lao Wu's prosthetic hand suddenly cramped and hit the newly carved boy's head with a "clang", turning his mouth into a crooked mouth - yes, it was still a familiar recipe. Liu Yuting's scolding came from the kindergarten: "Zuo Fei! You posted the paper man on the toilet door, and the children said they wanted to give toilet paper to the paper man!" Mr. Yin and Yang's days were spent with the prosthetic hand losing parts and the paper man's mouth crooked. Lao Wu continued to carve his crooked boy, I continued to draw my crooked talisman paper, and Liu Yuting continued to chase us to mend the holes. Du Xiaoyu is gone, Uncle Wen is gone, but the card table in Fuzetang is still standing, the bell of the paper shop is still ringing, and the aroma of roasted sweet potatoes is still wafting in the back alley. Although Lao Wu's prosthetic hand is broken, he can carve the most joyful paper figures in the whole back alley: Although my painting skills are crooked, they can make Xie Sui laugh after looking at them; although Liu Yuting's scars are deep, they can make every child feel at ease. Some things are broken, but some things are still there, just like the green smoke under the old locust tree, it disperses but gathers into human fireworks to warm the rest of our lives.
