No Trace, Like a Puppet String

September is coming, and autumn is here; the wind dyes the mountains yellow, and embellishes the sky with blood. Everything seems normal, except that the first snow in 2021 came a little earlier. In the snowy September, I lamely walked into the campus. The snow fell on my shoulders, but the chill penetrated into my heart. Strange footsteps, strange words, strange sky and strange snow: it was my first time to come to this city, speaking an unfamiliar language, and I didn't know anyone, not even myself. I may have longed to settle down in this strange country. Blood stained my heart, and I tried to hold my breath. Finally, I opened my mouth to the unfamiliar faces: Question—What do I need to do? ——"Welcome to 184 High School Affiliated!" I had no clue. It was as if I was separated from everyone by an invisible iron curtain and could not be traced - like the strings on a puppet.