When Lin Wanqiu was tidying up her old house, she dug out a rusty semiconductor radio - it was bought for her by young Chen Yu in 1987 with the pocket money he had saved for half a year.
My fingertips rubbed the peeling paint shell, and pressed the long-defunct switch. Suddenly, the chirping of cicadas in the old alley, the jingling of bicycle bells, and "The Story of Time" hummed by Chen Yu under the locust tree sounded clearly in my ears again.
That summer, they queued up together at the grain station to exchange for food stamps, watched "Romance in Lushan Mountain" at the state-owned cinema, and wrote down in their diaries the thoughts they didn't dare to speak out. But an unexpected move cut off contact between the two, leaving only this radio as the only thought in their time.
Now that he is middle-aged, Lin Wanqiu travels around old places holding a radio, trying to find the lost years. Can those concerns hidden in old music bring back each other's past?
