"The mountains and valleys that can't be seen to the end, and the watery waters that can't be sung endlessly."
A street lamp, an old street, a guitar, a young man,
How many stories can be sung.
Jiangbei District. Guanyin Bridge Street. In front of Shangjia Village Tavern.
The spring breeze of renovation blows in every corner of the mountain city, making his small village look so out of place and in danger. The mottled tree shadows, the sparse audience, and the occasionally lively streets during festivals. He stayed there for fourteen years and sang for seven years.
At first, I didn't even count singing. I would sit in front of the pub with my father, help him with some small jobs, or squat by the guitar case, staring at the loose change inside, and humming along with his father's singing. Later, my father went to wander in the prosperous Guangdong. Grandma said daddy was going to make money.
From then on, all that was left in the boy's life was his guitar, his grandma, and the tavern.
Among the hurried people, many people stopped to listen to his singing. The tavern owner's daughter occasionally played guitar with him. She said that music was his talent.
The boy remembered the girl's slightly mature singing voice and her nice name.
Li Junling.
At the end of June when I was fourteen, a strange visitor came.
Every day and every night, whenever the young man sang, he would listen quietly.
Listening intoxicatedly and addictedly, just like the young man sang.
"Kid, you know, this is the first time I heard someone singing with river water in it, just like the Jialing River over there."
"Thank you... But I don't think you are much older than me..."
"You're a little shorter than me... Well, little guitarist, I want to sing a song with you, okay?"
"Shen Lu." The strange listener's green outline was outlined by the street lamp.
"Huaiwei."
Li Junling said that Shen Lu was simply more persistent than Chun Yan.
When they met Liu Tang, it was a few weeks before school started in September. The three of them met a fat guy in front of the tavern and said that they wanted to compete with them in a special second-tier singing competition.
The figures under the streetlight changed from two to four...
Since then, the past has been recalled. The blue years and the music of the orchestra will flow from the stacked mountains to the Pacific Ocean along the Jialing River.
Food guide (most likely no one will read it...):
1. I am currently writing an article by hand. It may not be published for several years.
2.1V1, double first love, HE
3. The place Shangjia Village is fictitious, and it should not exist in the third dimension... (I don't know if there is a name collision:-D
Intention: We have the freedom to sing about the good old days, and we have the courage to open up the future.
