The sun is shining brightly in Chang'an City, and Zhuque Street is packed with people.
But as soon as I stepped into the city gate, the customs clearance document in my arms suddenly became hot.
Children on the roadside sang strange songs: "Golden Chanzi, ten reincarnations, a true monk, never eat Tang..."
The last word is always interrupted by mother's scolding.
My name is Tang Shan, and I am a migrant worker with a dream. I clearly remember that a second ago I was staying up late to revise my plan. Today, I am wearing a brocade cassock and standing on the streets of Chang'an in the 13th year of Zhenguan.
