On the twenty-fifth day of the New Year, the north wind stung my face.
I passed the peeling iron gate at Sister Yu’s house and heard a booming voice from the courtyard: “Pace! Light it!”
The suona blared, and the New Year spirit burst into life. But my youth was buried in the old days along with its music.
The joys of youth, the lively little courtyard in Northeast China, the warmth of home, and a promise made between two people.
I thought I could hold on to this love until we grew old together. But life wore us down, and misunderstandings, harsh realities, and other people’s gossip piled up around us.
When the years had gone round and round and I finally looked back, the banquet was still there, but the people I once knew had long since drifted apart.
That once-burning love amounted, in the end, to just one line:
So my youth really did go to the dogs.
They are all writing novels, so there is no need to make fun of them. If you read for 17 hours, you will be given one star. If you read it for tens of thousands of words, you will be given five stars. During the verification period, I will not give you one star. Don't go with me to bully others.