Everlasting Clouds

It was an ordinary day, as usual, the sky was still cloudy, the sound of reading in the classroom was still the same, and a wrong call on the teacher's mobile phone on the three-foot podium wonderfully and magically changed the fate of a young boy who was willing to listen but inexplicably. Many years later, Chen Xiaojun stood among the tall buildings, looking out the window at the endless flow of pedestrians and vehicles downstairs. Then he looked at the black and white notes posted on the wall on the left, his eyes flickering and he remained silent. ————————————————————— When the songs of the Yin and Shang dynasties return, and when the descendants grow up, I am a myth, Chen Qinghe turned to say truthfully