My youth has no blood, only a bone-chilling wind.
Others' runway is glory, my runway is desperate situation.
Yu Hua writes about suffering in a blunt, silent and enduring way.
Zhang Ailing's cool writing is detailed, silent and heart-wrenching.
At the age of seventeen, I tasted both of these flavors.
I ran in the deserted playground and grew up in the cold eyes and rejection.
No complaining, no begging, no compromise.
No matter how cold the wind is, it can't blow away my desire to run; no matter how difficult the road is, it can't stop me from going far.
I will eventually run out of the shadows and run towards the light that belongs to me.
Purpose: Give yourself an explanation when you were bullied at the age of 17
