In Qiaowen, I passed the college entrance examination, filled out my application form, worked a part-time job, returned from traveling, completed military training, and the summer vacation was over. He made new friends, ate new meals, lived in a new dormitory, had new teachers, and started his college life in confusion.
Suddenly, he remembered the fat noodle chef in the cafeteria and the shamate on the subway, Sundays at 9 and 10 every day and in the afternoon, political check-ins and mathematics, pages of corrections and words of encouragement in the planner. . . . . . And he, who has gone through the same thing as him.
Perhaps he will experience many more three years in the future, but there will never be three years like this again, and there will never be such a group of people worthy of such commemoration.