Dr. Su Jinsan ran a clinic in the British concession in Tianjin during the early 1910s. He was believed to be the best orthopedic surgeon of the city. Even foreign horse racers whose limbs were broken would come to see him.

At 6:30 in the morning, Spring got up. At 7 a.m., he left home and walked 10 minutes to the metro station. The metro system of this city resembled the spider webs of his hometown. In fact, it was denser than spider webs, covering every corner of this city.

A gust of cold wind blasted through the cracks in the half-open door, making me involuntarily shudder. But it bothered me none as I stormed out against the headwinds in a rage, slamming the door shut to give vent to the frustration in my heart.

After sweeping several roads and returning to her rented bungalow, Wang Hao was in need of some rest. She had been up since dawn. As she closed her eyes, the crying of the neighbor’s child pierced through the thin walls and shattered her moment of peace. Lying in bed, she thought about how it was time to visit her husband Li Bing again, and found it even more difficult to sleep. Li had been hospitalized for several months, without any sign of improvemnet. Wang was so worried that she sat up, staring at the gray window for a while. Then she remembered Li’s wish of having the furniture rearranged. She got up slowly, tears streaming down her face, and began to move the furniture about.

When did the sparrows settle in the Liu family yard? Nobody can tell for sure. Maybe the day the family moved in, when Mrs. Liu moved a nest from inside the house to a tree in the yard. Maybe it was the day when she spanked her son and denied him dinner for shooting the birds with a sling. Or maybe it was the day when the Liu family planted the first seedling – the family planted hundreds of them every year. As the trees grew into a forest, the number of sparrows in it also increased exponentially.

After the Qingming Festival, Old Geng from Dongzhuang Village went from alley to alley with his bicycle. He was a chicken vendor.

Ma Ha was lying in a hilltop meadow, staring off into the distant sky. Near him was his herd of sheep, nibbling away at the grass.

“Planting a plane tree can attract golden phoenix.” Ya always feels that this proverb is wrong. The eight-year-old has never seen a phoenix on the plane tree in the yard.

I was watching a local opera on the village’s Willow Stage. Mom spotted me among the crowd and dragged me out.

FOR some adults, children’s concerns are seldom taken seriously.

JIANA Bieke rode his horse carefully down into the valley floor. It was spring, the season for Mongolian gazelles to go down

SEVENTEEN-year-old Qi made the comment when she was having noodles with her mother and me at a restaurant.

A 17-year-old girl was headed abroad, with four of her close relatives sending her off at Pudong airport.

HAVING carefully watched over his flock all night, at dawn, Guyu eventually witnessed the birth of three lambs.