A Foreign Land Is the Years of Chang'an on the Shores of Longhai, My Hometown

In the 24th year of the Republic of China, there was a severe drought in eastern Henan. Su Guangtian grabbed half a bag of grains and packed his wife into a stuffed tank truck heading west. The earthen holes at the base of the city wall, the linoleum sheds on Ziqiang Road, the red brick houses of the power plant, the wind under the overpass, the footprints of three generations are spread along the Longhai Line. A cracked iron pot, half a bag of grains from home, half a century of fireworks from escaping from the wilderness to taking root and having children, are floating in the alleys of Xi'an North Road. Once the foreign land is firmly established, it is my hometown.