Lai Hunyu, who originally lived in a small town in the south of the Yangtze River, was like a quiet stamp affixed to an old envelope. At the end of summer in the fourth grade, he came out of the blur of light and shadow, holding a dragonfly with broken wings in his palm, saying it could heal the sky.
Lai Hunyu thought they were just friends counting the clouds side by side, but unexpectedly he broke into his four seasons with wind and rain: giving him a shoulder and blocking the waves of ridicule when the chorus went out of tune. The twists and turns climbed up the young man's back like a vine - changing schools, quarreling - but he kissed every crack into a gap of light. From then on, Lai Hunyu's map had burning coordinates, and no matter how small the city was, it could hold a vast space.
Concept: Describe the daily life of two children growing up