Wu Xiang crossed one strangely shaped stone pit after another, stepping through filthy water that flowed everywhere. Once again, he heard vulgar, twisted curses, complaints, and sorrow surge in from every direction.
The walls were mottled and crumbling. The cramped ditch stretched as far as the eye could see, its jagged edges looming menacingly as it rushed closer, then roared away.
Wu Xiang pushed open the door. A faint light from outside broke through the darkness, but the room remained murky and indistinct, filled with a stale, rotten stench.
Little Wu Xiang: "I'm back."
High school Wu Xiang: "I'm back."
College Wu Xiang: "I'm back."
Beneath the bridge, a black river surged, like a black hole about to swallow the slender, fragile structure.
Red and blue lights reflected in the sky.
Ye Qing: "He doesn't need the internet. He needs love."
This isn't some feel-good pep talk.
A tribute to everyone who longs to fly and steadfastly pursues that dream. Thanks to the Party, which continually renews itself and remains committed to serving the people. Thanks to everyone who works hard and gives quietly in every profession. Thanks to everyone in society who uses their own light to illuminate and warm the lives of others. And thanks for every era we've lived through together.
Theme: A tribute to everyone who longs to fly and steadfastly pursues that dream
