正文
You feel like you’re going to die from the stress.
You don’t.
You go off to university, maybe somewhere far away.
Your parents see you off.
You feel lonely and lost. And for the first time, you appreciate the stress of Gaokao, the camaraderie forged in that fire will be memories for life.
You rarely come home, busy with your own stuff. Even on the phone it’s hard to find things to say. But you try your best when it’s Chinese New Year.
You see your relatives. They comment on how tall you’ve grown.
You don’t recognize half of them, but they seem keen on knowing every detail about you: Have you found somebody yet? Do you have a job? How much does it pay?
You remember this road, but was that store always there?
You get nervous butterflies when you’re finally about to enter your old home. 近乡情更怯,不敢问来人。Huh, so the old poets had a point after all.
Your mother is in the kitchen. Your father is drinking tea on the balcony. They look older. You don’t mention it. They rush to greet you, asking about your life. You’re fine, you say. You’re fine, you’re fine.
You eat as much as you could, but your parents tell you to eat more. You’re not used to this much affection. You don’t know how to react.