Many years later, Shunqing still remembered that afternoon buying popsicles.
The path that escapes from the asphalt road far away from the village extends to the independent two-story building. Rose-red curtains stick out from the window, and together with the ivy covering the wall, they fade in and out with the summer wind.
The sound of music slowly overflowed from the small building, soaking up the sounds of cicadas, the lush green camphor, the hot air, and Shunqing's heart...