The reason for "abnormal" is that youth is a bizarre practice.

Miss C every time after catching the last subway home, always feels a brief happiness for her long legs.

For her, who is used to experiencing the morning and evening rush hours, being able to go home at this time is something she is very willing to do and has no need to deliberately avoid;

She leans her head against the carriage, her hair a bit messy, and the makeup that has been washed away by a burst of sweat after running makes her not want to touch it up much.

The train rushes by with a “whoosh”, accompanied by the constant “squeaking” sound from the gaps in the carriage, she slightly closes her eyes, and as her head and body sway with the rhythm of the carriage, she vaguely feels as if a rough big hand is using just the right amount of strength to go up and down, in and out on her ~.

It takes about an hour to go from leaving the office to lying on her bed at home, of course, this is only under the premise that the crowd has dispersed, it is not crowded, and she is rushing home alone at full speed.

When the subway approaches the terminal station, there will be a period of fluctuation that is slightly more intense than usual, and C will wake up at this time; the crowd will not be crowded, and even the stall selling hand-grabbed pancakes at the subway exit is empty. “If it weren't for rushing back, I would really want to have one for myself.”

In the city where she has lived for six years, the daily commute feels like a zombie searching for breath.

She lowers her head, even if someone suddenly bumps into her hard, she wouldn’t turn her head to look at the other person.

Any matter that once felt so happy will produce a sense of disgust if repeated for too long, and if the sense of disgust cannot be quickly shaken off, it will be like a gynecological disease getting deeper and deeper.

For five whole years, this is the level of disgust C feels towards the city; if deepening it is like the freckles on a middle-aged woman's face, then she is now like a hobbit.

But sometimes, after careful thought, she finds it hard to distinguish whether her disgust is towards the city or towards her current state of being alone.

After six years of graduation and five years of being single, this city has long been regarded as the most familiar place outside of her hometown; every morning when she opens the curtains, familiar sunlight always shines in, and in the evening when she closes them, she avoids all the lights.

After six years of graduation and five years of being single, this city has long been regarded as the most familiar place outside of her hometown; every morning when she opens the curtains, familiar sunlight always shines in, and in the evening when she closes them, she avoids all the lights.

So getting rid of the sense of disgust only leaves the idea of creating a home in the city. This idea has long existed in her heart, but it is difficult because she is eager to get rid of being alone yet does not want to casually establish a relationship with the opposite sex. Thus, it is hard for urban people who view relationships as fast food to find such patient species.

Moreover, her strong and picky personality makes her even if there are pretentious, touching seeds fall, it is completely impossible for them to grow from there, desolate beyond measure.

Going to work, working, getting off work, going home alone... every day repeats like this. Occasionally, it reminds her of the time when she just graduated and was with her lover. Although it wasn't as lively as school, the two of them could always do many things together that were more interesting than doing them alone.

The result ended with the boy returning to his hometown, and not long ago, there was news of his marriage. In the end, she is left alone in this city.

C's concept of relationships requires equality, both sides equal, whether in income or in various aspects.

If someone could wait for her to come home every night and cook her supper, she would prefer to eat at an elegant restaurant with someone who lives in a villa and drives a luxury car, under the premise that she pays, eating food that the other person likes but not what she likes.

C does not think this is a wrong idea because the freedom of choice is a necessary standard for a normal personality. If there is blame, it can only be blamed on social reality, because everyone pursues different things.

Young W has recently been studying the Bible and has some understanding of freedom of choice. A perfect person certainly possesses the awareness of freedom of choice, but if one cannot choose correctly, it will be like Adam committing sin.

W is currently starting from scratch to accept a concept called faith; this is gradually overturning many of his past common views. When he looks back at the past, it gives him a lot of courage.

Living in this city for three years, the advantage of a big city is that it allows lonely young people to have many places to interact with people and space to grow.

W likes the night view of the city, after work he chooses to wear headphones and wait for the bus, because sitting on the bus watching the city night view always makes him forget the fatigue of a day's work, but occasionally he also chooses to take the subway home because he misses the last bus.

Because of W's work and personality, he does not have many social occasions to attend every day, every week, every month, or even every year, and he does not have many friends. The concept of "fate" is not supported in the Bible he reads every day, but he firmly believes that at some point in time, there will be people who appreciate each other. Just like he recently saw a saying: take good photos of old products, set reasonable prices and put them on Xianyu, one day, there will definitely be someone who silently buys this product without saying a word.

Before this person appears, W hopes to work hard to make himself better.

“At my current age, plus the fact that girls mature four to five years earlier than boys of the same age, the partner I am looking for should be at least around 31 years old; among the boys in this age group in my hometown, sixty percent are those who have not married due to introversion, lack of social skills, or psychological issues. Ten percent are divorced, twenty percent are delayed due to high education, requirements, and careers, and ten percent for other reasons…” C murmurs in her mind every day, calculating these very specific standards for her future partner.I feel that the experience of blind dates is similar to when I was a child getting an injection at the hospital. I am reluctant to go because it hurts, but I am afraid that if I don’t get the injection, I will catch a cold and it will be hard to recover.

“Every time I encounter a fun place or delicious food, I hope to take you to experience it again in the future, happy Valentine's Day!” W wrote this on a social platform after going for a stroll in the city center with friends on the recently passed 5.20.

The last relationship ended almost a year ago, for a long time it made him start to forget the feeling of being in love.

W cannot say whether he has slowly forgotten these two relationships, but he feels very guilty, every time he thinks of this, he has to secretly make a promise to himself.

Once a person starts to self-deny, it often begins with asking others, “What kind of person am I in your eyes?”

If you can't sleep at night, will you appear in someone's dream? A Japanese legend tells us that if a meaningless event occurs, we are actively moving forward in some people's dreams.

: Chapter One

I want the first meeting after many years to be more elegant, so I suggested to meet at a nearby café.

The café is on a new commercial street, I chose the one that just opened at the end of a certain commercial street. In fact, I rarely spend time specifically going to certain restaurants for a cup of coffee or something else; perhaps as I age, I feel more and more that immersing myself in a quiet atmosphere without smoke and alcohol is a luxurious act—it's a waste of time and emotions. Because whenever I want to calm down to think about problems, I inevitably recall memories, and memories are in the past, irretrievable.

And once there is a slight pull to connect to the present, it becomes the most deadly ; for example, every time I flip through past photos, I see myself with a week’s worth of unshaven beard.

This city is known as a first-tier city in the country, and the crowded traffic and people will not dissipate with time. But no matter how beautiful the city is, as long as you are willing to choose a certain alley to walk deeper, if you reach the end if not a wall, then you will definitely find the most down-to-earth and old residential buildings.

And I live in one of them, a dark, damp place where sunlight never shines, without lights, it feels like a place of night.

The café we chose is located at the end of a newly formed commercial street, it is not a place where many people gather, but it is a place with a lot of foot traffic because there are two subway lines nearby, and most people around are constantly rushing to their respective destinations, but they all have to pass through such a commercial street.

I pushed open the glass door and walked in, my eyes just met hers; she was sitting in a corner against the wall, looking down at her phone. She is still the same as before, always squeezing into the corner, I remember when we first met, we were at the same table, and every time we changed seats, she would always request to sit on the wall side.

The café feels like it is always in the night throughout the four seasons—this thought has always existed. The dark main tone, the chandelier casts a warm yellow light, combined with the thick glass walls around.

I walked to the table, gently pulled out a chair and sat down, starting to look at her with some fear. Although I can naturally imagine what she looks like now due to occasionally dreaming of her, at this moment, I am a bit nervous and afraid that she will suddenly look up .

After about ten seconds, she began to put down her phone, slightly raised her head to first look outside the glass wall, then slowly turned her head and finally noticed me sitting across from her ; she lowered her head and smiled shyly, the way she smiled was something I never expected.

The indoor heating made her unconsciously pull down her scarf, I began to watch her with a very anxious heart, very directly, not using my peripheral vision.

After ten years, the flesh on both sides of her cheeks is a bit more than before, but the overall shape is still the same; her bangs are the same as ten years ago, neither longer nor shorter, her face has some freckles that foundation cannot cover, but from a distance, she still looks fair, making it hard to tell that this is a woman of my age almost thirty.

Part 1

A: Still looking? Changed a lot?

B: Oh no, looks the same.

A: But you, you haven't shaved your beard; (she stirs her coffee with a spoon and continues) B: It's really not easy to find you; it's been ten years, how have you been?

B: It's really not easy to find you; so, it's been ten years, how have you been?

A: Pretty good, no desires.

B: Still single?

: For now, yes (my eyes scanned around, finally landing on a corner of the smooth and tidy wooden table)

: “Why not find someone?”

: I'm used to being alone;

: You're still like this, always finding an excuse for your loneliness. (She said with a hint of teasing tone;)

: Is work okay? Which company are you developing in now?

: “I work as a handyman in a private machinery factory”;

(This time she finally raised her head to look at me, her eyes seemed a bit dim, then slowly sank again, and then she began to ask:)

: “Are you joking, such a prosperous area has heavy industry?”

: No, it's in the suburbs far from this area, about a twenty-minute drive; every city has its prosperous areas and suburbs .

: Quite disappointing, I always thought you would become someone I would be proud of.

: Well, I'm really sorry to disappoint you, actually I'm a very ordinary person, nothing special.

: Maybe I was wrong about you in the past.

: Are you married? — I am married. (We both almost said it at the same time)

B: Almost five years, graduated from college, then got married two years later, we started in college, and after graduation, we both had satisfactory jobs, so we almost never lived the kind of struggling life like you.

Do you remember I sent you an invitation in every way I could contact you? Didn't you see it?

A: I shrugged and replied maybe I didn't see it; actually, I did see it, but since that year, I have not planned to go back home again, so I could only say that.

B: Yes, in recent years it feels like you have disappeared. The current husband is the first and the last after leaving you. In a sense, maybe it was only after leaving you that I learned to satisfy and cherish (he spoke slowly as if he wanted to make every word clear and serious).

A: Then you must be very happy now, your husband should love you very much. (I didn't know what to say next, so I just casually replied.)

: Pretty good, just got promoted to be the director of the unit, he's a surgeon. In middle age, he has gained a lot of weight.

A: This should be the life you always talked about wanting, right?

B: It used to be, but not anymore. To be precise, I don't even know if it is still or not, I feel like I experienced all of this too early; so now I always feel that life is always missing something. But I can never say what exactly is missing?

part 2

I sat there for a while...

: First of all, I am quite happy that the blow originally had such a big impact on you, but at this point, I especially want to say sorry to you, sincerely.

: At that time, I just felt you were very selfish, only caring about your own feelings.

: But I never felt that I owed anyone, at most I was just very casual, doing what I like, loving whom I want to love, saying what I want to say.

I leaned back deeply against the chair, wanting to take out a cigarette from my pocket and light one, but in the end, I thought better of it and held back.

B: Similar words were often said by my mother when she was alive, my response at that time was: “I don't care what others say or think, I only care about my own heart, as if I must be sincere to others.”

But being good to others and others being good to me is often not equal, this is the most meaningful thing my mother taught me.

A: I'm sorry, I touched on your pain.

B: Oh no, Steve Jobs said that death is the most meaningful creation in the river of life, this is what I have been enlightening my mother about in the following years.

A: So you always feel that death is the best relief for your mother?

B: I guess so.

A: Are you afraid of death?

B: I have dreamed of dying several times on many depressed nights, so I feel that I have a genuine fear of death like most people.

A: Then how can you still enlighten your mother?

B: People like to talk big, especially about things they can't do; the deeper the words, the easier they are to come from someone who is not deep.

A: Sometimes I often wonder how you have endured these five years, you are not good at pouring out your inner pain. You like to hold it in.

We both fell silent for a moment, as if we were trying to find some common topics .

part 3

: Is the story you wrote before still continuing?

: No, I haven't picked up a pen or opened a computer for more than three years.

: Can you tell me what you have specifically done in these three years besides working?

: I specifically forgot, usually it was a life of working from eight in the morning to eight in the evening. After work, I would take a bottle of wine, a pack of cigarettes, and drive to a big tree in the suburbs . The grassland is thirty minutes away from here, sometimes after I finish smoking and drinking, I can just fall asleep by the grass, and the next day drive back to work. Sometimes after drinking, I would slowly walk back alone, leaving the car there. The next afternoon, I would return to that place and conveniently drive the car back.

: Aren't you afraid someone will steal your car? To be honest, this ghost place has hardly seen a few people in three years.

: It sounds like a magical place, what kind of place is it? Can you take me to see it later?

: It's a graveyard, I'm afraid it will scare you.

: Then I said, but I found that as long as there are graves, the surrounding trees grow faster and lusher than in other places.

: That might be because when people die, their souls and bodies merge into the land and then are entrusted to the trees. Do you believe your mother is watching you from a certain tree?

: Thank you for letting me know that there is such a saying.

: On Sundays, I usually sleep all day, such days are without desires, the salary is enough to spend, there is a place to live, and I won't go hungry, I haven't thought about pursuing anything else. Why bother to spend effort pursuing other things?

: What about your family? Have you thought about them?

: Three years ago, I stopped thinking about having any family.

: Have you walked out of the shadow now?

: Much better.

Part 4

: By the way, my second uncle has opened a fairly large company in Xiamen, I want to introduce you to go there,

: Oh no, thank you.

: My uncle graduated from the Chinese Department of Peking University, he is the editor-in-chief of a well-known magazine, wants to...

: No, thank you.

: Why? Didn't you always want to keep writing?

: I want to, but I took a deep breath. But it seems like you have always liked to show off your various relatives and friends since high school, do you feel particularly proud of that? Or do you feel particularly superior?

At this time, she looked at me somewhat blankly, a bit stunned, I kept my head turned towards the window trying to express my dissatisfaction. She didn't show much expression, just kept stirring her coffee with a spoon. After nearly five minutes, when I turned to the table, the coffee still had steam rising, slowly drifting to the glass window on my right, forming a thin mist, and then disappearing. In the end, I broke this silence; my anger towards her never lasts long, and I always think about being forgiving.

: How did you suddenly come to this city?

: It's nothing, just felt too stuffy at home, wanted to come out for a walk.

: You mean, your husband and child don't know you left?

: Hmm,

: You are still so selfish, they will be very worried. (I was a bit shocked and wanted to ask why)

: Just kidding, I just have a friend here, came to play for a few days.

: Oh.

: You look pretty much the same as many years ago, I used to always complain about your old and smelly face.

: Feeling down? Or?

: A bit depressed, I just found out a few days ago that I am pregnant with my second child, so I wanted to come out and relax.

: You look very happy,

: I guess so, for many women, I am happy, but only I know that the further I go, the less I know what the meaning of life is.

: Why bother to care so much about meaning? Most people don't understand meaning, but they still live happier than you.

: What you said is indeed true, recently I watched “Before Sunset,” and I always feel that a certain scene is very similar to us.

: You also like those three movies?

: I saw this in one of your shares when you were twenty, actually, I really agree with the line in the movie: imagine ten years later, you no longer love your husband, not recalling the men you have seen in your life.

But leaving you is not a wrong decision, at that time I felt your artistic atmosphere was particularly strong, not that you were proud or anything, you were very restrained, whether it was towards talent or your own ideals... but no matter what, I don't regret it at all (then she fell silent for a moment, and an awkward atmosphere enveloped us again).

: Did you come just to say these things to me?

: Not entirely, but to be honest, I feel that being with you back then was particularly boring, because the silence when we were together was more than at any other time, and it was obvious that every time you brought up some completely meaningless topics.

: If it was because of this, if this was the reason for our breakup, thinking about it now is really quite ridiculous. You always tried to force all the plotlines of idol dramas onto a boy.

: But girls were like that back then, weren't they?

: You still stutter a bit when you're nervous.

: Yes.

Later, I gradually realized that you belong to the type of person who appears cold on the outside but is passionate on the inside, while I am the opposite, and this is the reason we could never be together...

At twenty-nine, just two months shy of thirty, I was driving an old Jeep on a road lined with poplar trees on both sides, the night was dim, and the streetlights were yellow and unclear...

In late autumn turning to early winter, outside the car window, there were only streetlights that appeared every two or three hundred meters, the rest were dense shadows of trees.

The dry cold wind blew in through the half-open window, because my eyes felt a bit uncomfortable, so I closed the window, the extremely quiet interior of the car made me unconsciously add some light music.

I have a very special love for a certain type of pure music, such as “The Taste of Wind,” “Day and Night,” “First Snow,” “The Promise”... they are like alcohol to a manic patient for me, every night I have to loop this kind of music to fall asleep peacefully. I can always fall asleep suddenly when a piece of music accurately loops for the fifth time, but if suddenly other music comes in the middle, I wake up as if I had a very cruel nightmare, and then it’s endless insomnia.

I have been listening to similar piano pieces since I was young and have loved them, perhaps it is these piano pieces that have kept the sadness of my youth alive, not diminishing but increasing. These two kinds of sadness are not entirely the same, mainly reflected in the fact that when the current sadness comes, the time of depression and silence also gradually lengthens, and then I keep relying on alcohol and cigarettes to eliminate it.

A 40-minute drive allows me to listen to seven to eight pieces of music, when it loops to “Love in April Snow,” the gentle melody makes me feel a bit lost, sometimes when emotions run deep, one or two tears may fall, looking up from the glass window, in the dark night sky, a glimmer of light dazzles my eyes .

“It’s dark, and the road is still not halfway there.”

The road from my hometown to school was just built when I was seventeen, every time I walked on such a road, I would fantasize about one day driving on a moonlit night, and I also thought that if I could have someone I love sitting in the passenger seat, that would be even better. This wish took eight years to realize, it may seem long but not really, the city took seven hours of continuous driving to reach my hometown, and the scene when passing this road is very similar to now, but it was already deep winter, seven days before the Spring Festival, the moonlight illuminated the ground as if it were daytime. I slowed down to the lowest speed, rolled down the window, and the cold air immediately filled the car, but my heart felt particularly warm. I remember that when I reached the foot of the mountain in my hometown, it was already midnight, in a daze, I often forget which time it was, my mother was also waiting for me to come home with a flashlight at such a time and environment on this hillside.

Half an hour later, I arrived at the place where I lived. The wide open-air parking lot is about a five-minute walk to the rental house, the house I temporarily live in has eight floors, I live on the third floor, I rented a one-bedroom apartment with a balcony, all the room arrangements are similar to a two-star hotel, the hallway and the door are very tidy, and there is a surveillance camera in front of the elevator, such rent in the city is not too cheap, so living expenses take up a large part of my current salary, plus gas money and car maintenance every few months, the salary is just enough for me to spend it all.

On the eighth floor, there is a rooftop, on nights when I don't have to work, I always go there, the big city is like my face, the buildings and streets are the features, all piled together chaotically, with no appreciation at all. So every day when I look up at them, it feels like looking at myself in the bathroom mirror at night. Therefore, sometimes I can't explain why I stay in such a city, just like I know I have a bad face but still can't help but look in the mirror.

Three years ago, one night, I drove all the way here, and then it has been three whole years. Loneliness often exists, but friends are few, and no one is willing to treat me as a friend, with no relatives nearby. I visited my father two years ago, and I visited my sister a year ago, and a few months ago I returned to my hometown.

It takes six hours to drive to my father's workplace, two years ago when I arrived, he was still renting a one-bedroom apartment; with a balcony, the living room had a set of sofas, the bed in the room was a bit big, and there was a cabinet beside the pillow, I accidentally opened the first drawer, and inside was a box of condoms, I quickly pretended not to see it and pushed it back in, while my father was washing vegetables on the left side of the balcony.

His personality has become much gentler than before.

“What are you working on now?”, she asked at that time;

“Working as a handyman in a machinery factory,” I replied;

He paused while holding the vegetables, and then said nothing; until I left, he didn't even bother to say “take care of yourself.” We are like this, whatever we say feels like a formality, at least I think so, so even now I rarely keep this father in my heart. Even in my twenties, I carried a deep hatred in my heart, but as I grew older, some of that hatred has gradually faded, especially at this age, there are not many people I can hate anymore.

My sister moved to the county town of our hometown, a year ago I visited her with the feeling of it being the last time we would meet. So the emotions at that time were particularly complex, and when she saw me for the first time, she looked very shocked, followed by confusion, yes, it was that kind of expression that seemed to say “I thought you were dead.”

My nephew was ten years old that year, both in speech and dress, he looked like a city kid, not at all like the silly us from childhood, the wall in the room was hung with the guitar I gave him three years ago, this guitar cost me a month's salary back then, but I didn't feel any reluctance because in my heart, his weight could surpass that of his mother. Ten years ago, when I was in high school, I even fantasized about what kind of future to give him, thinking about giving him a piano during his childhood, the insecure me always envied those who played the piano in a suit at school evening parties.

Music can bring great cultivation and temperament to people, and for three years in high school, I admired such people, but for me three years ago, a good piano would cost me a year's savings, so instead, I got a medium guitar. But now it is more like a decoration hanging in the corner, and when I gently touch it, there is still dust on it.

I have nothing to say about my brother-in-law and his family, I even understand them as the people who took away my sister's beautiful youth. Yes, she got married a year after graduating from high school, and then gave birth to a child in the same year. Then she began her life as a mother, my mother initially strongly opposed it but shed tears on the day she got married. My siblings are completely different people, whether in personality or thoughts. So sometimes I feel that rather than siblings, we are more like friends with a blood relationship who are accommodating each other.

This spring, I took a ten-day vacation to return to my hometown, wanting to pay tribute to my mother with deep emotions.

My mother's sudden departure three years ago is still hard to fully accept even now, the wallpaper on my phone is still a picture of me with her, and I occasionally open her number on a dim night and directly dial it, the pendant in front of the car is also the pearl shrimp my mother made for us siblings when we were young. If I compare my heart to a container, my love and guilt for my mother can occupy two layers of equal height. I don't know what adjective to use to describe her to make it more appropriate, just like, if I were Forrest Gump, she would be the mother who “can always clearly tell you everything.”

In the not too long or too short thirty years, the time I actually lived with my mother is less than ten years, since I was born, she went out to work, returning once during the Spring Festival, until I went out to work, leaving her at home.

It wasn't until I started middle school at thirteen that this kind of life ended, but after graduating from middle school, I changed to another kind of life, I went to the county town to study, could only come back once a month, and my mother stayed at home alone, just to make me a pork and corn soup during this meeting. I am very grateful for this kindness, and even have some college ideas, wanting to work in the same place as her and my father. What I didn't expect was that after I graduated, her health deteriorated, and to avoid burdening us, she voluntarily stayed at home alone. After a few years, she started using a wheelchair, and then three years ago, she suddenly passed away. And I have always been drifting, and even now it hasn't changed, so for the past three years, I haven't dared to come here to visit my mother.

Three years ago, we buried her on a low cliff, below which is the highway, so I still remember the day of the burial, the sound of dozens of firecrackers connected together was not as loud as the honking of cars speeding by, many wildflowers grew on my mother's grave, and the grave was overgrown with weeds, passing by, one wouldn't even notice it was a grave. Three years have passed, and I don't know if anyone has come here to clean it. The messy grave is just like my mother’s disheveled appearance before her passing, sometimes I look at the grave, sometimes I look at the sky, and sometimes I look at the shining asphalt road...

（2）

That day I sat in front of my mother's grave from noon until evening, holding incense candles, burning three and then lighting three more, the smoke made my eyes a bit red, but I held back my tears and didn't let them fall, just blankly watching the cars continuously come and go, fast like these thirty years that have passed, the distant sky appeared particularly gloomy, the breeze swayed the wildflowers on the mound a bit, and when I looked up at the village, it seemed like watching a landscape painting go from clear to blurry and then from blurry to clear.

But some deeply memorable scenery is like a deeply memorable dream, even if a long time has passed, as long as there is a trace of it, I can immediately recall it.

Like this road in front of me occupies a large part of my beautiful memories from my youth.

I love the road; when I was a child, I had no hobbies, just liked to walk along the road, because it was once the cleanest place I had ever encountered, boundless, shining black. The wildflowers and small trees along the way have never been lacking, but I generally didn't dare to go too far, then I would climb over the barbed wire on the road, and ahead would be the woods of our village.

Our village is not very big, just has a lot of mountains and trees, and almost all the mountains are connected. Once I enter the woods, no matter how I walk, as long as I keep circling, I can always find my way home. Of course, during most of the walking time, I was not alone, but with a large group of friends, even if I can remember some of them now, it is still hard to give a correct description of their childhood characteristics.

We often went to a small lake filled with water, with water plants at the bottom, surrounded by trees, forming an almost enclosed square space, with four corners as exits, except for the water, it was all grass, and that grass was very tender and fragrant.

On weekends, we would take the cow to the grassland, afraid it would eat all the grass. The water in the lake gradually deepens from the surroundings to the center, as for how I know this, because for rural kids, secretly playing in the water is essential, besides going to a big river in the neighboring village, we could only find such a place, the water is not very clean but also not very dirty, the main thing is that this place is hard to be discovered, we could play there for an entire afternoon, but before the sun sets, we would all come ashore, taking advantage of the last bit of sunlight to dry our hair and tan our pale skin a bit.

There is another place in my memory that combines water and grassland, I found this place at a certain time when I was saying goodbye to my youth and stepping into maturity. I can't remember which specific year it was, I just know that I still miss that version of myself at thirty. The personality formed between eighteen and twenty is usually hard to change later, sometimes I also arrogantly think that there will always be some people who will guide my changes. But I really can't figure out who those people are.

This space of grassland and pond is similar to two basketball courts, its entrance is not as easy to find as the previous place, it only has one entrance, surrounded by mountains, and when I reach this entrance, I am often blocked by wildflowers and weeds that are at my chest height, it takes at least a minute to walk over the wildflowers and weeds to get inside. In my impression, this place has only one unchanging appearance in all seasons: the tall trees around block most of the sunlight, only a little scattered on the grass, perhaps because of the long time without sunlight, the grass appears a bit moist, whether in the morning, noon, or evening. The only place where sunlight directly shines is the center of the water, forming a circle with a radius of about two meters. Occasionally, you can also see a few bubbles rising. Perhaps due to the underground water flow, this pond is very clear. However, there are many fallen leaves floating on the surface.

After paying tribute to my mother on the first day, I drove to the front of the house where I used to live. After three years of no one living there, the house is still not much different from three years ago, only the branches of a osmanthus tree in front of the door have stretched into the yard, the black paint on the iron gate has peeled off a large part, and the lock hole is a bit rusty, it took me a lot of effort to open it. The house has peacefully passed eleven years here, but due to the long time of only my mother living there, it hasn't appeared too old. At that time, the family was still very poor, most of the money for tiles and cement was borrowed, and a small part was earned back by my father, so it took three years from the first brick to moving in, the house, decoration, and furniture were all done step by step. Later, my father and I also spent several years paying off the debt. The color and design of the tiles in the house mostly came from me, as an eighteen-year-old, I liked blue the most. So I made blue the main color of the house, placing the living room and family rooms on the first floor, and a suite on the second floor just for me, which made me a bit selfish, as there were originally few people in the house, and my sister had married out and often didn't come back to live, so my parents let me be.

On the second floor, there are two rooms, mine is the innermost, walking in feels like being isolated from the world on the first floor, behind the house is a high mountain, so I set up a large balcony in my room on the second floor, adding a table, it became a place for me to read and write sometimes.

（3）

My room is not very big, just a bed, a wardrobe, and a desk with a bookshelf attached; this is also my habit of decorating rooms that I love the most to this day: besides the bed, there can be nothing else, but there must be a desk, because only when I see it do I feel a bit more at ease. I should be afraid of missing every moment I want to record. In my more than ten years of work, I have spent little time living in collective dormitories, usually in single rooms for one person, so this is also why my personality is like this, and another reason is probably that I often change environments, without any familiar feeling towards any place, of course, these are just the habits of a youthful wanderer, so that at this age, my heart is still wild, but I just don't want to leave.

At the age of 24, due to my mother's serious health issues, I spent the second half of that year at home taking care of her. During my free time, I idly read some books, which rekindled the artistic sentiments I had during high school. The books I read back then were mainly by Japanese authors, such as Haruki Murakami, Jun'ichirō Tanizaki, and Yukio Mishima. My bookshelf now also holds many of their works, like "Spring Snow," "Norwegian Wood," and "My Eternal Home." I have to admit that I once dreamed of becoming a writer. In my late teens and early twenties, I read a lot of literature, including "Blood-Red Romance," "One Hundred Years of Solitude," "The Kite Runner," and "The Great Gatsby." Each time I finished a book, I felt I was getting closer to that dream. However, after starting to work, my reading pace gradually slowed from one book a month to one book every few months, then to one book a year, and eventually I stopped reading altogether. If I did read, it was only some books unrelated to literature, like "Sex and the City" and various novels and story collections...