Returning at Night in Jiangcheng

At two o'clock in the night in Wuhan, some people refused to go home. My father has half a song that he wrote over twenty years ago. The songs he didn't finish, I finished for him. It turns out that even in the deepest night, there are always shops that are not closed, noodles that are not cold, and the sound of disconnection. And someone who is willing to listen to you sing.