Big raindrops hit the glass window like broken beads, making a dull crackling sound. Looking outside, the entire Jiangcheng was wrapped in a gray rain curtain, and the visibility was less than ten meters. Song Yanze was squatting in the corner of the balcony sorting out old cardboard boxes, a thin layer of sweat forming on his forehead. He was holding a yellowed high school photo album in his hand. His fingertips traced his bright smile in the photo, and the corners of his mouth couldn't help but curl up.
"Ozawa, why are you bothering? Throw away the pile of rags on the balcony quickly. It stinks in the rain and makes people feel sick!" Mother Liu Mei's voice came from the living room, impatient and sharp, and it penetrated even through the sound of rain.
