He stood on the steps and looked up at the sky. It's gray, exactly the same as five years ago. The weather in the old city has never been sunny. The wind blew on my face, pulling the skin and flesh aside, causing pain. On the contrary, he felt comfortable - after five years of drifting outside, everything was fake, but this pain was real.
When he was driven out of the old city by Sun Ming five years ago, it was the same kind of weather and the same kind of wind. His mother was still standing in the old street crying.
