Traveling through the twelfth lunar month of 1952, bearing the household registration and independent courtyard given by the martyr brother. More than twenty households in the front courtyard are crowded into a hive, and all the neighbors have special skills. I walked into my new home with my neck hunched, and I squatted at the base of the wall to dig out the cracks in the bricks: The water in this courtyard was so deep that I had to first count the number of pairs of eyes hidden in the wall.
