That May, more than a decade ago, coincided with the rain pouring down over Jiangnan.
The plum rains soaked the whole village from top to bottom. In the fields, rice blossoms rolled like snowy waves. Peaches and pears were still green, dotted with sparkling raindrops. Spiders busied themselves spinning webs between the branches, while the nearly ripe loquats sent out waves of fragrance.
I went with my mother to visit relatives and, when we came back, received a message: Bai Qing from our village was going to Shenzhen for work. She asked if I wanted to go with her.
