Winter, 1978.
The wind, like a knife, blew across the face.
I, Lin Zisu, was squeezed into the green train heading north, and all the bones in my body were about to fall apart.
In the carriage, people are crowded next to each other.
The smell of sweat, cigarette smoke, and an unknown sour smell mixed together and penetrated straight into the nose.
"Give in, give in! Boil the water, be careful not to burn it!"
The conductor's hoarse shout seemed faint amid the noise.
I hugged the faded canvas bag tightly in my arms.
In the bag, there is my life.
