Fengling Ferry is on the edge of the Yellow River and has been used by boats for thousands of years.
Fengling Inn also spent this long time seeing people everywhere.
Passers-by passed by in a hurry, and guests staying in the hotel only took a short rest before walking to unknown places again, blurred in new memories, and their faces could no longer be distinguished.
But everyone has a story, whether it is in the past that they want to forget or the present that they are trying to remember, whether it is superficially surfaced or buried deeply in their hearts.
But there are always stories, good or bad.
I would quietly stay in the lobby of the inn, in the backyard, and on the street in front of the door. Sometimes I would run out and watch people coming and going, and listen to all kinds of joys and sorrows.
Day by day... Year by year...