The sound of the waves hitting the rocks was like shattering the eardrums. The salty sea breeze poured into the nose, carrying a nauseating moisture. Lin Qiang opened his eyes violently. What I saw in front of me was not the leaky rental house, nor the wine bottles on the floor. It is a gray sky and dark brown cliffs at the feet. On the edge of the cliff, a woman wearing a patchwork floral shirt was holding a thin girl and leaning forward. The woman's hair was withered and yellow, and was blown wildly by the sea breeze. Even Lin Qiang recognized the back figure that had turned into gray. Su Xiu. And their daughter, Niuniu. "Xiu'er!" Lin Qiang roared in his throat, his voice hoarse as if it had been rubbed on sandpaper. Memories forcefully turn like rusty gears. November 4, 1983
