When I was nine years old, I met King Zhongshan for the first time, that boy with beautiful features. Although our meeting was not pleasant, he was like two crickets ready to fight. To be precise, I was the only one who looked like the cricket ready to fight, while King Zhongshan was at best the one teasing the crickets with weeds.
As time passed, the orange tree in the courtyard went from blooming to fruiting, and then from falling fruit to blooming. King Zhongshan and I became familiar with each other. Once he finally couldn't bear that I kept calling him King Zhongshan, so he found a stick and carefully wrote the name "Murong Chong" on the ground. From then on, this name has been firmly attached to my life.