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This story begins in Yuanjiafen Village, an extremely small village in the North China Plain. When I was a child, I often heard the elders in the village say that our village was called Yuanjiafeng because before liberation, our ancestors had been guarding the tombs here for generations for the Yuan family, a wealthy man thirty miles away. Which Yuan family is thirty miles away? At that time, we were still children and didn't know much about it. But in the north of our Yuanjiafen Village, there was indeed a grave mound of the boss at the earliest. It is said that it was later leveled by a group of young students who came in a carriage, and it became a good wheat field that grew vigorously. Okay, now, what I want to describe is actually not these. I want to say that I was born here, like an unpruned tree, growing until I was fifteen - maybe sixteen. Then, he left on a dark and stormy night. After leaving, I never returned to this village. Now, I'm finally back. However, here, I also want to tell you quietly that it is my soul that is coming back now. What does it mean to return to one's hometown? That's probably what I am now. Now, I am parked at the southernmost end of the village, in front of the courtyard of my house that has long become dilapidated. I want to carefully recall everything that happened back then, but for a while I can't remember how everything happened at that time. But I know that memories can never be erased. Now, I'm going to recall a little bit and tell you. Of course, what I will tell you in the end is probably more than that.