In the first year of Xianping, I was still a four-year-old child, and Mo Yan was just a three-year-old baby who needed to be coaxed and held to stop him from crying. I still remember that day, the sky was dazzlingly blue. I lay on the grass in the courtyard and looked at the sun. My eyes hurt from the sunlight, but I still stared at the fiery red ball. My stubbornness was formed at that time.
Conception: