This article was originally published on August 10, 2024, with minor changes in the middle. It was recently improved again on August 8, 2025, and was finally published on Jinjiang. There have been changes in the national table tennis this year, but nothing happened when I first started writing, and everything about them was still immersed in the overly ambitious topic of the Paris Olympics. At that time, I thought about their separation at an inappropriate time.
When I think of them, I always think of autumn, especially autumn in Beijing.
The ginkgo trees turned golden all over the ground, the autumn rain continued, and the weather was cool for a good autumn.
This article was written in a hurry, and I was anxious to send it out. When I looked back, I found many typos, missing words, grammatical errors, and some unclear meanings.
Although I have made changes so far, they still cannot satisfy me completely.
The words are continuous, flowing from Dong's childhood to the separation of the two. A few months after I finished writing it for the first time, I re-read it again, and I still feel sad when I read it again - years have flown by, and I am no longer as sad as before. Along with the sadness are sighs. Such earth-shaking changes have taken place in the past few decades. Time has carved their bodies in a big way. It is impossible not to sigh when facing these two masterpieces.
This is how I felt after re-reading it. But now that I have made a few additions, the mood and writing style are not completely consistent with those at that time, so I am careful to make as few additions as possible to avoid superfluous things.
The text of "Flowing Gold and Quicksand" is really plain, but if Wan Wang reads it carefully, you can see that it is clank and brilliant.
Plain, vague, and flowing slowly, I am glad that my words resemble the freehand autumn of Yanjing.
Intention: To briefly record the years and emotions flowing through Long Dong