In the stillness of the night, I found myself unable to sleep, instead sitting at my desk reminiscing about a romantic trip I had recently taken. Before that, I had visited many coastal cities, where the sea, sky, wind, rain, and crashing waves seemed poetic, but those memories gradually faded. Only this recent trip to the Inner Mongolian grasslands, with its blue skies, white clouds, horses grazing beneath the clouds… and the warm hospitality of my friends, remained like shimmering pearls in the river of time, their warmth and smoothness still present on the riverbed of my memory.
The decision to embark on this trip stemmed from some writer's block, which led to a sudden whim to visit the grasslands and let my spirits soar. I made the decision in less than two minutes, calling a friend in Inner Mongolia who offered enthusiastic support, and we agreed to visit their grasslands in a few days.After settling some matters, I boarded a bus to Inner Mongolia one morning, beginning my romantic journey.
The bus journey took a full six hours to reach Hohhot, the capital of Inner Mongolia, but I felt no fatigue whatsoever—perhaps a reflection of my state of mind.
I met my friend and his family, and they treated me to a hearty meal of Inner Mongolian hand-pulled mutton. Then they showed me the night view of Hohhot, which immediately made me feel relaxed; my impression of Hohhot had changed a lot.
After seeing the night view, my friend asked when I was heading back. I said early the day after tomorrow. My friend said "Oh," looking troubled, and asked why I was in such a hurry. I said I had urgent business to attend to. My friend is a straightforward person and knows how busy I am, so he told me that rushing to Damao Banner Grassland wouldn't be enough; the round trip of over 500 kilometers wouldn't leave much time for sightseeing.
Damao Banner Grassland is my friend's hometown, and I know that Longmei and Yurong from the film "Heroic Little Sisters of the Grassland" also hail from there. I really wanted to go. My friend had told me the story behind "Heroic Little Sisters of the Grassland"—the first person to discover and rescue Longmei and Yurong wasn't the railway worker but a "rightist," who later suffered a terrible fate, spending several years in prison. When I heard this, I was shocked, and my heart sank. In the past, I have bravely saved people and salvaged collective property on numerous occasions, yet I received no reward for it; instead, I was betrayed by petty people. Unwilling to accept this, I fought back. Human conflict differs from animal conflict. Animal struggles promote the evolution of the species, while human conflict only leads to regression, because the capable often suffer, and who will then strive for anything? My later indifference to everything speaks volumes.
In the past, as a teacher, and quite the craftsman at that, when teachers held low status, anyone with connections or ability would jump ship, leaving me helpless. Later, when I was somewhat successful, I offended some petty people, and even my teaching career was ruined. After I was driven from the classroom by those petty people, many talented teachers in the school were disheartened and didn't want to stay a day longer, gradually transferring away, severely damaging the school's vitality. Now, more than a decade later, while other schools are overflowing with students, the leaders of that school are still struggling to fill their quotas… To be honest, I'm far luckier than Hasichao Lu; at least I haven't been to jail. I've thought about why I haven't been. Judging from the menacing manner of those scoundrels, it wasn't because they couldn't fabricate a reason for my imprisonment, but because times have changed! Really!
The story of the grassland heroines is largely confined to my childhood. All I saw and heard as a child was that the two sisters were rescued by a railway worker—how could he be a "rightist" and suffer such misfortune? Then
I thought of the internet. The internet is wonderful! A quick search on Baidu, and you can find any event, big or small, from ancient and modern times, both Chinese and foreign—
Hasichao Lu, formerly an editor at the Inner Mongolia People's Publishing House, was wrongly labeled a rightist in 1957 for offending his superiors and sent to the grasslands of Damao Banner, the hometown of Longmei and Yurong, for controlled labor. Hasichao Lu was the first person to discover and rescue Longmei and Yurong; this was an undisputed fact at the time. How could he have become a railway worker? According to the logic of the time, enemies of the people could never be associated with young heroes. Although Hasichao Lu had saved the precious lives of the grassland heroines, he was not entitled to this honor.
Outrageous!
A month later, Hasichao Lu saw various propaganda reports about the grassland heroines, but the first person described in the reports who discovered and rescued Longmei was a railway worker, and his name was not mentioned at all. This made him very disappointed and aggrieved, but he didn't take it too seriously; he wasn't a person who craved credit. Unexpectedly, his misfortunes continued. During the Cultural Revolution, he was falsely accused of being a "sheep thief" and a "reactionary herder," and was repeatedly criticized and struggled against. In 1966, he was wrongly labeled a "current counter-revolutionary" and imprisoned in the local prison. Two years later, he was transferred to Kulun Banner Prison. It wasn't until 1972, when his youngest daughter heroically sacrificed her life while fighting a fire in the Xilin Gol Grassland Construction Corps, that his daughter's meritorious service led to his release. However, after his release, Hasichao Lu did not regain his normal status because he was still a criminal and a rightist. Therefore, his family could not survive in Northeast China and had to return to their original village, Narengerile (Riguang) Brigade, Damao Banner. The kind-hearted people of the grasslands helped Hasichao Lu's family through their most difficult time. Later, with the care of central leaders and the Inner Mongolia Autonomous Region Party Committee, and the efforts of the "Little Heroines of the Grasslands," the fact that Hasichao Lu was the first person to rescue the Little Heroines was finally clarified in 1985.
The Inner Mongolia Autonomous Region Party Committee investigation team concluded that Hasichao Lu was the first person to discover and rescue Longmei and Yurong.
Thus, Hasichao Lu was able to return to his original workplace—the Inner Mongolia People's Publishing House—and continue working.
From rescuing the Little Heroines of the Grasslands in 1964 to the clarification of the facts in 1985, the historical truth was concealed for 21 years due to the historical context at the time. What's even more unimaginable is that, many years after the facts were clarified, many people, including myself, still don't know the truth of this history. Even Longmei and Yurong only learned about it later. In 2005, the elderly Hasichao Lu passed away after a life full of hardships. Longmei was away on a business trip at the time, and Yurong went to his home to see him off on his final journey…
Time leaves no trace, everything is gone, but the story of Hasichao Lu remains, and will remain forever… Hasichao Lu, the herdsman who truly saved Longmei and Yurong, did not gain honor from rescuing the grassland heroines, but rather suffered loss because of them. This is truly a great irony. But the fault does not lie with the grassland heroines, nor with the railway worker; who can be blamed? Looking at history, Hasichao Lu's tragedy is not just his own tragedy, but a tragedy for the nation, a tragedy for the people. Having said that
, caught in a dilemma, I had to give up on going to the Damao Banner grassland. I should make a special trip there in the future, so I told my friend, "Let's go to a closer grassland."
Early on the third day, my friend and his family and I set off from Hohhot, our destination being Huanghuagou Ecological Park located on the Huitengxile Grassland. On the way, my friend told me that Huitengxile is a Mongolian word meaning "cold mountain ridge"; the Huitengxile Grassland is one of the world's few well-preserved natural meadow-type grasslands, at a high altitude; Huitengxile has strong, continuous, and high-quality wind energy, and has a large-scale wind power plant; Huanghuagou is known as the "Jiangnan of the North," possessing a poetic and picturesque charm, combining the beauty of mountains and water, with steep mountains, towering peaks, and winding paths… My friend's words piqued my interest. I had been to Inner Mongolia many times before, but I had never been to the Huitengxile Grassland, and I knew nothing about the scenery of Huanghuagou. I nodded in agreement with everything my friend said.
The car drove on, and before we even arrived, my friend's phone rang. After answering the call, my friend said we should go to the county town first, where an old classmate who was a traffic policeman had already booked a table at a restaurant and was waiting for us. I didn't say anything; my first thought was that this would delay us and affect our itinerary. But I also understood my friend's feelings at that moment—how could we refuse such a warm welcome from an old classmate? So be it!
When we arrived at the restaurant opposite the Finance Bureau, my friend's old classmate, who had been waiting there for some time, stood up as soon as she saw us enter, warmly greeting us and inviting us to sit down. The table was already laden with wine, drinks, and dishes, including large chunks of mutton and smoked chicken, all Inner Mongolian specialties. My friend's old classmate was dressed in civilian clothes; she was rather handsome, very warm, and had the air of a well-bred lady. At that moment, I thought, if she were in her police uniform, she would definitely be a stunningly beautiful policewoman. My friend's old classmate was quite thoughtful; he had inquired beforehand about me, a guest from afar—a native of northern Shaanxi—and specially prepared this meal. I felt incredibly warm inside, and felt that the people of Inner Mongolia were truly hospitable. All I could say was "thank you." We had barely sat down when another guest arrived—my friend's fourth uncle, whom he hadn't seen in a long time. He was nearly fifty and worked as a technical staff member at a nearby power plant. Once
everyone was seated, my friend launched into a long-winded introduction. I'd heard this so many times that I paid it no mind, and naturally, I don't remember exactly what my friend said. I only know the gist: I was a writer, having written many math books and articles, and in recent years, many novels, essays, and even a full-length novel. My friend's classmate and fourth uncle listened attentively, and I felt quite pleased with myself. But I didn't give them each one of the two books I had brought, because I was afraid they might misunderstand and think I wanted them to sell my books. In recent years, I haven't dared to give books to others rashly, for fear they'd think I wanted them to sell my books (this issue was mentioned in the article "My Interactions with Classmates" in this book).
We ate and chatted, and because we still had a long way to go, we didn't drink much alcohol. After the meal, my friend's fourth uncle had to go to work, and my friend's classmate said that no matter how busy she was, she had to come with us. To find a companion for her friend's daughter, Sai Sai, she drove home to pick up her beautiful, pre-school-aged daughter, Mimi, and then we headed to our destination together.
About ten kilometers outside the county town, the view suddenly opened up; the road seemed to have turned into a blue ocean, and our car bounced up and down, left and right, like a ship on the sea.
We had arrived at the grassland!
The vastness and magnificence of the grassland were truly moving! The blue sky over the grassland was mesmerizing! So blue and ethereal, it was here that I truly understood the meaning of the phrase "the universe is infinite."
Further on, we saw a power plant's "windmill," which wasn't particularly unusual or anything special. But then I looked again, and there were countless of them—it was quite a spectacle. It was magnificent and beautiful to look at. However, the grassland wasn't as green as I'd imagined; we'd gone a bit too late. The best time to visit the grasslands is June or July, and it was already September. Nevertheless, the sight of the yellow-green hues blending into the grassland was quite unique. About ten minutes later, we saw the yurts, a vast expanse of white. We also saw the gate to Huanghuagou Ecological Park, where colorful flags fluttered and people thronged, presenting a bustling scene.
We parked the car in the parking lot, got out, and walked along the stone-paved path towards the park gate. At this time, the sky was overcast, the air damp, threatening rain but not quite! The temperature seemed to drop several degrees, a cool breeze blowing; thankfully, I had brought warm clothes.
My friend and his old classmate were ahead, rushing to buy tickets; I didn't join them, knowing they wouldn't let me open my wallet.
Upon entering the park, a large sign stands not far ahead, reading:
Huanghuagou Scenic Area is located in the heart of the Ulanqab Grassland in central Inner Mongolia, a typical alpine grassland terrain. With an average altitude of over 2000 meters and a total area of more than 600 square kilometers, Huanghuagou boasts unique topography and beautiful natural scenery. Here, mountains rise and fall, ravines crisscross, and cliffs rise steeply, stretching out in a winding path. In the height of summer, it is renowned for its vibrant yellow flowers. Historically, many ancient tribes have vied for supremacy here. When the fierce Tiele people migrated from the distant Lake Baikal to this area in their high-wheeled carts, they left behind the timeless lines, "The Tiele River flows beneath the Yin Mountains, the sky like a yurt, covering the vast wilderness." Huanghuagou is a winding valley, a remnant of ancient glaciers, formed by the twisting and fracturing of the earth's surface during tectonic movements. The valley stretches for over 10 kilometers, is about 300 meters deep, and 100-200 meters wide, earning it the reputation of a famous mountain range beyond the Great Wall.
Sure enough, after walking along a flat path, we entered Huanghuagou, and all our doubts, questions, and daydreams began to surface. The rocks on the mountainside were quite unusual; unlike the "earthen stones" of other mountains, they were all exposed, rounded and simple, mottled, with crisscrossing textures, appearing very old and vigorous. Entering the entrance and descending the slope, we saw sheer cliffs on both sides, layer upon layer of peaks, and a forest of strangely shaped rocks, some resembling sword gates, some golden turtles, and some stone figures. Tenacious green trees and grasses grew in the crevices of the rocks. Due to time constraints, we only had time to briefly glance at and take photos of the truly spectacular sights beyond the Great Wall, such as "Double Camel Peak," "Sleeping Dragon Peak," "Buddha's Hand Mountain," "Divine Turtle Ridge," "Hanging Waterfall Cliff," "Immortal Cave," "Three-Tiered Spring," "Mirror of Heaven," "Wooden Fish Terrace," and "Divine Onion Rock."
Huanghuagou Valley runs roughly east-west, with the Huanghua Spring, like a jade ribbon, flowing gently from east to west, its banks lush and green. Clear water meanders around the pebbles, green grass accompanies the yellow flowers, creating a unique and enchanting scene. Following the stream downstream, one experiences a sense of winding paths and unexpected turns. The head of Huanghua Spring is visible at a glance, composed of numerous springheads. Some springheads emerge from cracks in the rocks, others sprout from the roots of grass; some are thicker than a bowl, others as thin as a twig; some are strong and powerful, leaping more than half a foot from the ground, while others are incredibly weak, trickling out according to the terrain. Following the spring, we can see many strangely shaped rocks, such as Sleeping Lion Mountain, Coiled Dragon Rock, Double Fish Rock, Gourd Spring, Listening to the Stream Slope, Mushroom Rock, and Back Stone. The valley floor is much warmer and sheltered from the wind than the grassland. There is also a Mongolian-style restaurant here, but since we had just eaten, we sat outside by a large rock, casually eating some of the fruit and drinks we brought, without going in to sample the unique Inner Mongolian cuisine.
We took a cable car back to the top of Huanghuagou Valley. To my utter amazement, as I looked around, below Huanghuagou Valley stretched a sloping plain planted with blue-flowered hemp, yellow-flowered rapeseed, and green wheat and buckwheat, patchwork after patchwork, layer upon layer of vibrant colors, set against the backdrop of pine forests clinging to the valley walls, creating a magnificent and colorful panorama. I felt that Huanghuagou was not only a valley of strange rocks, but also a verdant valley, an unforgettable valley, like a fairytale world. I truly wanted to stay there and not go up the mountain! After getting off the cable
car at the top, we walked forward and saw a large, temporary structure made of piled stones. My friends told me it was an ovoo, a sacred cairn in the hearts of the herders, symbolizing the presence of a deity, passed down through generations. Oovoos were once ubiquitous throughout Mongolia, but their numbers have greatly decreased. Originally, they were stone markers used by people on the vast grasslands to mark roads and boundaries, but later gradually evolved into symbols for worshipping mountain gods, road gods, and praying for a bountiful harvest and the happiness and peace of family.
Further along was the grass-skiing area, but my friend and her old classmate seemed unimpressed, walking past without even glancing at it. I, however, felt a sense of novelty and lingered. My friend's child, Sai Sai, came to my side, and her classmate's child, Mi Mi, followed. Being a perceptive person, I immediately understood they wanted to grass ski with me. At the same time, I suddenly remembered a news report I'd seen online about a little girl who had been injured while grass skiing. The two girls weren't with their parents; could I take them grass skiing?
Oh, that was a very important matter; safety comes first in everything these days.
I hesitated. But my innate adventurous spirit prevailed, and I didn't want to disappoint the children, so I decided to be foolish again! Without hesitation, I said to them, "Let's go grass skiing together, okay?" They were so excited they almost jumped for joy, stomping their feet and shouting "Yes!"
I bought tickets, thirty yuan each, which allowed us to slide as much as we wanted. We followed the tracks laid out in the grass on the hillside, sliding down and back up several times on our own. I was panting and drenched in sweat. But Mimi and Saisai wanted to slide again—so brave! My imaginative mind couldn't help but think of Longmei and Yurong from the film "The Heroic Little Sisters of the Grassland," which I watched as a child. So, I didn't stop these two "heroic" sisters and watched them slide again. After some persuasion, they finally came with me to the nearby archery range. We watched others first, and then we tried archery ourselves. It was my first time shooting arrows, and I found it very fun. The children weren't as interested in archery because you have to draw the bow fully to hit the target, which they didn't have the strength for.
Leaving the archery range, I saw my friend and his old classmate standing on the mountain, waving their arms back and forth, whether they were pointing out the scenery or trying to get us to come up the mountain, I didn't know. I decided to tell the two children, "We should go up the mountain." However, the two children pouted, showing no interest in going up.
Oh, there was another fun game there—"Throwing the Bulu."
Bulu is Mongolian for throwing, and it's made of wood, shaped like a sickle. Throwing the Bulu is a traditional Mongolian sport, originating over 1300 years ago in the nomadic era, where it was used as a weapon for defense and hunting by the ancient grassland people. The "Bulu" is a question mark-shaped curved wooden stick with a sharp stone or iron block attached to it. Herdsmen would throw it while chasing wild animals on horseback to hit their prey. This primitive hunting method was later replaced by bows and arrows, and the "Bulu" gradually evolved into a sport for the Mongolian people to exercise. After the founding of the People's Republic of China, it was listed as a national sport. The throwing area for the "Bulu" is the same as the javelin throwing area, and one of the competition methods is to determine who throws the farthest. The playing area needs to be a flat rectangular area of 750 square meters. A throwing line is drawn at one end of the playing area. The target is three round wooden posts, each 50 centimeters high, with a diameter of 4 centimeters at the top and 6 centimeters at the bottom. The wooden posts were placed 30 meters from the throwing line, spaced 10 centimeters apart. In the official competition, each person was limited to three throws, each lasting no more than 30 seconds, with no restrictions on posture. Other rules for the "Bru" throw were basically the same as for hand grenades. Secondly, the winner was determined by accuracy. The scoring method for accuracy was: 10 points for hitting all targets directly, 8 points for hitting all targets indirectly, 6 points for hitting two posts directly, 4 points for hitting two posts indirectly, 2 points for hitting one post directly, and 1 point for hitting one post indirectly. The maximum score was 30 points, and the final ranking was determined by the total score.
Before this, I had never heard of or seen "Bru," so I was very curious and joined them in the game. I first picked up a round basket and collected the scattered "Bru" pieces, and then we started the competition. First was the "distance" throw competition; although Mimi and Sai Sai tried their best, I ultimately won. But in the subsequent throwing accuracy competition, I was no match for them; I was a complete novice compared to them.
After climbing the steps to the top of the mountain, my friends and their classmates and I went straight out of the scenic area gate and drove to a nearby horse riding area. Horse riding is a dangerous sport; as the saying goes, "mounting a horse is fraught with danger." However, Mimi and Saisai's eyes were fixed on those majestic horses. I wasn't afraid of the dangers of riding, but I had ridden horses many times before, so I wasn't very interested. But my friends insisted. So, Mimi, Saisai, and I each mounted a horse, led by a herdsman. As soon as the horses took a step, I saw Mimi wearing a short-sleeved shirt, shivering all over. She was going to catch a cold, so I dismounted without hesitation and gave her my coat. Although I was also very cold, the children were more important than me! Besides, I'm an adult and in good health; I wouldn't shiver even in the cold.
Mimi and Saisai rode their horses with great enthusiasm, while I seized the opportunity to chat with the herdsman leading the horses. Seeing my interest in horseback riding, he launched into a long explanation: horses have their own will and desires, and their behavior is sometimes unpredictable, often leading to accidents; most herders' horses are wary of strangers, so you shouldn't approach them from behind or make any sudden movements to avoid startling them and injuring yourself; you shouldn't wear brightly colored, easily shaken, or noisy clothing on horseback, such as raincoats, hadas (ceremonial scarves), headscarves, loose clothing, balloons, etc.; you shouldn't pass items to each other on horseback, and certainly not play around, make phone calls, or use lighters; beginners or those unfamiliar with horse behavior should never try to race, because most horses, once they start running, won't stop, and even if you try to make them stop, it's impossible… Haha, he certainly knew a lot!
After circling around, we dismounted, and it was already sunset. Time, however, didn't linger like us and stop its march. We hurriedly got back into the car and rushed to the hotel in the county. My friend's fourth uncle had booked a table for us and was waiting.
We arrived at a private room and had barely settled in when the waiters filed in, quickly filling the table with food. After a few rounds of drinks, we ate, drank, and chatted, mostly about life. My friend was very grateful to his fourth uncle, saying that their success over the years was entirely due to his uncle's guidance. I chimed in, saying that everyone needs the support of their elders; otherwise, it's difficult to achieve anything. My friend's fourth uncle was very talkative and eloquent. After sharing some of his experiences, he said with great emotion, "In life, you encounter many things; these are inevitable experiences. When you reach my age, you'll have seen through everything and come to terms with it. But you young people can't be like me..." He sat upright and rarely smiled as he spoke to us. I think what he said makes a lot of sense, but I believe that young people shouldn't be so easygoing. Being too easygoing doesn't necessarily make things better; it might even lead to a lack of ambition. In my view, how well a person lives is largely a feeling, and this feeling is essentially determined by their spiritual values, ideals, attitude towards life, and way of living. As for money, power, and fame, I believe they are merely optional, optional in importance. This is similar to the common saying that the process is more important than the result. Understanding this, you will be able to formulate ideals and values that suit yourself, your abilities, interests, circumstances, and conditions. This way, you will not only feel more fulfilled, but you will also benefit others, the country, and humanity.
How to live a good life?
This is an age-old question that has been pondered and discussed by intelligent people worldwide for thousands of years without a definitive answer. Therefore, my previous views are merely one perspective and should only be used as a reference. Speaking of which, I can't help but share some thoughts on another way of living. I know a so-called wise man who explains the best way to live like this: Living well or poorly is a matter of feeling; whatever you feel is good, that's what's good! I think this feeling is different from the one described earlier, and it's problematic. This kind of living often leads to a somewhat aimless existence, not only making it difficult to achieve anything, but also inevitably causing trouble and even leading to a miserable life. For example, we see many individuals starting businesses, lacking technology, capital, and experience, yet believing that their wishes will surely come true. They aggressively raise funds, buy equipment, and build factories, harming themselves and many kind people! Aren't there countless examples like this? In any case, there is no single, fixed way to live. I still hold the view I mentioned earlier: life is complex, what suits you is best! I do admire my friend's solid, step-by-step approach to starting a factory. Although his factory isn't as booming as some others', it's still quite respectable!
After a satisfying meal, it was completely dark, and the entire county town was shrouded in night, the surrounding mountains casting dark shadows and beautiful outlines. My friend's fourth uncle and classmates urged us to stay overnight in the county. However, I was in a hurry to return, and my friend also had matters to attend to, so we politely declined their offer. As we parted, I gave each of them a copy of my novel, *The Three-Foot Podium*. They were delighted, excitedly saying that they hadn't read a novel in a long time and would definitely read my masterpiece.
The car arrived at the highway entrance, but the lanes were all marked with red "X"s. There was a traffic jam ahead! My friend, undeterred, got out and asked a staff member when it would reopen. They said they didn't know. So, my friend turned the car around and onto the national highway, heading towards Hohhot. The road conditions were excellent, all smooth asphalt, with very clear road signs, lane markings, and lane markings, making driving easy—not much worse than on a highway. My friend's daughter, Sai Sai, had fallen asleep sometime earlier, sleeping soundly. But I wasn't sleepy at all; my mind was still racing, and I had thought about many things and talked a lot with my friend.
I had been to the grasslands several times before, and I had experienced their beauty more than once, but I had never felt so relaxed and happy. Having done mathematical research in the past and now writing, I've been under a lot of mental pressure for years, constantly in a state of tension. Sometimes I feel really tired, so when I'm not busy, I need to give myself a reason to relax, to go out and travel, to release myself, to unwind. This way, I can write better and produce better works.
Inner Mongolia! Grasslands! What's readily available isn't just the generosity, enthusiasm, and hospitality of the Inner Mongolians… From elementary school to university, I had many classmates; after years as a teacher, I had many students; I've written countless books and articles, and have many readers. I feel like I know so many people, but life is sometimes like this: many people, even if you've known them for years and they've been with you for years, you still can't become friends, and you might even go your separate ways. But in my life, there will always be this kind of person: from different places, yet sharing the same personality and the same interests. We don't need to say much when we meet, but as soon as we see each other, we know they are the one we were meant to meet. A single sentence brings us together, and then we continuously give each other strength and courage for life. I believe this is true friendship.
Early on the fourth day, I was about to board the train back home. My friend and daughter came to the train station to see me off. They told me that if we had stayed on the grassland the night before, we could have experienced more of the grassland culture, attended a bonfire party, danced with Mongolian girls, and sang grassland folk songs. I said, "I'll come again sometime." My friend said, "You must come." I said, "Definitely." I then stroked my friend's daughter Sai Sai's pretty face and said, "Uncle will definitely come to see you again." Unexpectedly, Sai Sai suddenly turned to me and said, "Uncle is a great writer, could you write an article for us children to read?" I thought for a moment and replied, "Uncle will remember, I will definitely write it, I'll write it as soon as I get home."
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