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Resignation and Returning Home
Slice of Life辞职归乡记
Old Vegetable Farmer
I don't know how long I slept for, but I woke up at almost four o'clock. The sun was scorching outside the window, and the leaves were rustling in the wind on the mountainside behind my house. I felt that nothing had changed, and it was still the same summer as in my childhood. It turns out that eternal existence exists in the mountains and rivers that no one knows, in the swaying of branches, the rustling of the wind, the light and shadow of green leaves, and the leisurely chirping of cicadas. This summer, this cicada chirping, this wind, this tree, makes people cry.
I don't know how long I slept for, but I woke up at almost four o'clock. The sun was scorching outside the window, and the leaves were rustling in the wind on the mountainside behind my house. I felt that nothing had changed, and it was still the same summer as in my childhood. It turns out that eternal existence exists in the mountains and rivers that no one knows, in the swaying of branches, the rustling of the wind, the light and shadow of green leaves, and the leisurely chirping of cicadas. This summer, this cicada chirping, this wind, this tree, makes people cry.