In the month of March, the late spring cold came fiercely and fiercely. The wind blew on my face like a knife, bringing with it the unique dampness and coldness of the Jiangnan water town, and penetrated into the seams of my bones. He Xu wrapped herself tightly in the old cotton-padded jacket that had been washed white and had frayed cuffs. She squatted in the corner of the Ming and Qing Palace with her neck hunched, staring intently at the small wooden cabin not far away with the sign "Registration for Group Performances." There was a group of people dressed similar to him gathered at the door of the wooden house. They were all rubbing their hands and stamping their feet in the cold. The white air exhaled from their mouths came in puffs, which quickly dissipated in the cold wind.
