Preface

      The college entrance exam is over. Before the exam, I had many articles I wanted to write, but I didn't have a developed structure or content. So I might as well take this opportunity to write them all here; please forgive me if it's incomplete.

P1 Throwing a Stone, Creating Ripples

      Eighteen years ago, I threw a pebble into the lake. Ripples spread from where the stone fell, creating circles of ripples. It all feels like a lifetime ago. Now, eighteen years later, the college entrance exam is like a white lotus floating in the shimmering water, carrying my dreams, yet also like a demon fruit gnawing at my body and mind.

      The college entrance exam is a heavy sword hanging over the hearts of contemporary Chinese people. You, or I, have been wounded by its sharpness and also long to obtain the power it holds. As its power is gradually drained from people's hands, it must inevitably become less sharp. But now, perhaps we don't care whether it is still powerful, because it carries the lingering majesty of its glorious past.

      Thousands of words fill my heart; where should I begin to describe this ordeal? Those people are no longer willing to talk about this past. I just wave my hand and smile, wind filling my sleeves. Perhaps it's a bit of arrogance. I don't think my future self will respond to my experiences in this way, but after I have gone through this history, I too no longer wish to mention it, nor even hear others mention it. I take it for granted as the ordeal that makes a person an adult, but after the intense trial, the fear of an unknown fate always rushes into my heart in the dead of night. Perhaps the God of Fate likes the fear of the unknown in mortals.

Let him be strong, let him be strong; the gentle breeze blows over the mountain ridge.

      The stone stirs ripples in the water; the college entrance exam stirs gentle waves in my heart. Perhaps because I have let go of everything from the past, everything I had hoped for now echoes thunderously. The night before the exam, I wrote: What kind of ending is worthy of the vicissitudes along this journey? I will write my resounding response here. What the final answer will be, I do not yet know, but I have enjoyed every flower and leaf along the way.

      I do not like the fear of an unknown fate, so I kept increasing the size of this stone, and finally threw it into the water. The ripples it stirred were no longer gentle waves, but surging billows, and the fear of the unknown dissipated.

      Regardless of the outcome, I have already thrown my stone into the lake and written my resounding response.

P2 Flatbread

      My hometown town, distant both in memory and physics, haunts my dreams. The most beautiful memory of my childhood there belongs to a single piece of flatbread. Having left my hometown for years, I have never again eaten a flatbread that captured my heart like that one.

      As a child, I never liked eating. My grandmother would chase me to feed me. A little child loves to play by nature. After taking two bites, I would tell the adults I was full and run off to play. Then in the middle of the afternoon, I would always cry, "I'm hungry! I'm hungry! I'm hungry!" Frustrating my mother to no end. They always thought snacks were unhealthy, and if I ate snacks, I wouldn't be able to eat dinner, so they would make me wait until dinner. But whenever market day came, my grandmother would take me to the stall that everyone called "Lei Bingzi" to buy a flatbread. Because his surname was Lei and he made flatbreads, everyone called him "Lei Bingzi," and the townspeople also called his stall that. As for market day, a mobile stall usually has no name, but his stall was given a name because he almost never missed a market.

      His flatbreads came in only two flavors: sweet and savory. I tried the sweet one once, but didn't like its taste, so I never ate it again. Yet even that single bite left a deep impression on my heart. Its taste was uniquely beautiful; its preparation seemed different from the savory one, using more oil and giving it a slightly sandy texture. The savory flatbread was my favorite flavor. Its crust was baked over charcoal fire to perfection, golden on the outside, with a hint of the original white of the dough showing through. Biting into it, it was crispy and had a unique bread fragrance that rushed into my nose as soon as I held it. The outer edge of the bread was slightly higher than the inside; biting into it revealed a small hollow part, which further enhanced its unique texture. The dough itself was soft yet chewy. As I chewed, I could taste the savory flavor of the dough and salt, along with some seasonings that added aroma. Biting into the seasonings released more flavors blooming on the taste buds, always leaving me wanting more.

      Such a flatbread can never be found again. At least, the flatbread of my childhood will never exist again. In a small town with its acquaintance society, if something happens to a family, news spreads quickly. What about Lei Bingzi? He has left, probably never to return. My mother said it was because he worked next to the stove for many years that he got cancer. And what can I do? I can only write an article to commemorate my childhood. But thinking back, the flatbread named after him has always stayed in my heart.

      Perhaps what I miss is not the flatbread, but the New Year in my childhood, a part of the New Year, a New Year tradition. I have not returned to my hometown town for a long time. The last time I went back, it had already lost the flavor of the New Year. An acquaintance society has gradually become unfamiliar. When will I ever see the town of my dreams again?

P3 A Train

      This train stops at West Station, a desolate station. I heard that in the past it was a station where you could flag down a train, but now it has been changed for standardization.

      This station does not use electronic screens or loudspeakers to announce train numbers. Instead, a staff member holds up a sign with the train number written on it and uses a megaphone to call out the train number. It feels like being transported back to the last century, adding a distinctive touch to the fast-paced life of the 21st century.

...to be continued