My memory of childhood is that one night in late autumn, I took my Ah Huang to the seaside one kilometer away, climbed up a long slope, sat on the smooth rocks, and peered into the endless sea. Ah Huang wandered around me, sometimes sticking out his tongue to lick my face. I shouted at him, and he lay motionless next to me, watching the distant scenery with me.
Dark clouds surged into the sky and soon enveloped the entire sky. Sunlight leaked through the gaps in the dark clouds. Shining golden lines could be clearly seen. The sea was dyed grayish-yellow and had an oily sheen. Seagulls hovered on the sea, looking like gray shadows arcing in the sky in the distance.
Ah Huang seemed to be stunned. I glanced at it, and it was looking intently into the distance and ignored me. Its ears were pointed and pointed, listening with all its strength. I've never seen it so quiet. What it was listening to, I had no idea.
The sea was so quiet, without even a single wave, that I could hardly hear any sound. I was deeply shocked by the calm sea. This shock came from the changes in the sky and the calm waves on the sea. It was as if someone was walking towards me from the distant sky, came to my side, and came into my life.