Taohuadu is the hometown where I was born and raised. Under the bluestone slabs of the small county town, there are thousands of stories my father has told. Those earthy legends were passed down orally from our ancestors, and they are also the stars on which I sleep.
Now my father's voice has faded away, but the moonlight at Peach Blossom Crossing remains the same. I wrote down these stories, like picking up shells scattered on the beach - the secrets of the old house, the weird things in the deep alleys, the strange stories in the market... They were quietly woven into a web by a group of caravans that shuttled back and forth.
After picking up these fragmentary fragments, I could clearly see that the hooves of the caravan contained the smoke and smoke of Peach Blossom Crossing that had not cooled down for thousands of years.
