In Tang Xi's memories, the Republican era was a time of unrest.
That year, her childhood sweetheart came riding on a bamboo hobbyhorse. In flowing opera robes, he sang of love and loss until the final song ended and the performers went their separate ways.
The dust-covered costumes lay at the bottom of the wardrobe, and the old photographs had long since yellowed.
On peaceful days, he held his cat and lay in a reclining chair, listening to old records.
He could barely remember what that person looked like anymore. He only remembered those youthful days: a young man cracking his whip, riding a fine horse in splendid clothes.
