The Old Friend Returns.

Wedge the broken hairpin in the rainy season, the backbone of a young man During the rainy season in the south of the Yangtze River, the raindrops are like endless cotton threads, entangled in the eaves of the black tiles on Ningsi Street. The bluestone road has been moistened to the point of being slippery, the moss at the base of the wall has absorbed water and is dark green. The salty aroma of the pickle shop at the alley, the aroma of the fried dough sticks from the breakfast stall, mixed with the bitterness of the old locust trees, float in the humid air. The tip of seven-year-old Wen Xin's nose was still red when her grandmother led her to the door of Grandma Xu's house, clutching the broken-wing silver hairpin. The hairpin was a relic from her mother. The butterfly's right wing was broken in half, and the cold silver surface made her palms tighten. The wooden door creaked open. Grandma Xu, wearing a navy blue twill sweater with silver powder on her hands, smiled and let them enter the hospital. Under the old locust tree in the center of the courtyard, there is no pony, only a smooth bluestone slab. A boy was sitting on the stone slab, leaning against the tree trunk, lowering his head and trimming a piece of locust wood with a small carving knife. He wore a white and blue cloth coat with a neatly buttoned collar, and the trousers were rolled up to his knees. The exposed calves were thin but strong, and he didn't care if they were stained with mud. He didn't curl up like other children, his back was straight, like a small pine and cypress that had been blown by the wind and rain but still took root. Hearing the movement, he slowly raised his head. Those eyes were extremely dark, as bright as obsidian tempered by rain. There was no timid dodge, only calm sizing. It swept past Wen Xin and Grandma, then returned to the locust tree in his hand. He held the carving knife between his fingertips, his movements unsteady like a seven-year-old child. "This is Lu Nanshan," Grandma Xu wiped her hands and said in a calm but painful tone, "My parents left early. They came with fellow villagers last winter. I let him stay here. He is very handy and learns how to repair things with me. He can do it with just a few clicks." Lu Nanshan didn't respond, just placed the carving knife gently on the stone slab, stood up, and nodded slightly to his grandmother. This was the etiquette he learned from Grandma Xu, not flattering, not cowardly, and just right. Wen Xin felt a little embarrassed when he looked at her. She took out the wrinkled strawberry candy in her pocket and handed it over: "Here you go, it's sweet." He looked down at the candy and hesitated whether to accept it, but finally accepted it. When the rain stopped that day, the silver hairpin was repaired, and the thin silver wire was so wrapped that there was almost no trace. Wen Xin pinned the hairpin in her hair and smiled until her eyes were crooked: "Hello, Lu Nanshan, my name is Wen Xin." Lu Nanshan neatly folded the candy wrappers and stuffed them into his pocket. His voice was very soft but clear: "Yes." A leaf fell from the old locust tree and landed between the two of them. That was the beginning of their life story and the starting point of Lu Nanshan's ten-year obsession. Intention: he