I didn’t know whether he returned home once eleven or twelve years ago. He couldn’t remember clearly. He only vaguely thought that he was walking along the familiar and unfamiliar road that day, walk to the familiar big poplar tree. He remembered that there should be a pond here. The lotus pond in the village had already been filled. He remembered that when he was a child fishing and catching lobsters in the pond, only his partners at that time grew up one by one and lost this idea. So, the lotus pond will be filled sooner or later? In fact, he felt a little heartbroken. The crisp and childish laughter seemed to be still in his ear. He suddenly saw his partner rolling up his trousers and over his knees and asking him to hurry up, because he found another lobster hole. The feeling was that the heartache and confusion time was too eager, and the wind was still ringing in my ears, but the train of the body had started, taking him to the place where he could not come back. He could only borrow some more information from the conductor. In this information, there were not only his voice, but also many old events that he couldn’t distinguish more and more clearly. Just like a passer-by from other places, he came from other places and went to the old way.

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