She's my friend and we got along very well. That was thirty years ago when I was in middle school. We exchange each other as documents, which is probably equivalent to adults allowing others to see their own projects! I vaguely understand that her parents are not of the same class as mine, but who cares about that? We have been dating for a long time, but we have never been to each other's house. At that time, the time for girls to leave school and go home was determined by their parents, and there was no reason to go to a classmate's house to play. One day, presumably due to an exam, school was dismissed early—I finally went to her house to play. Her home is far from the school and is a military dependents village. In fact, my family is also a military dependents village, but the military dependents' villages are different. It looks like a ship's cabin, with a large horizontal row, cut into many small rooms like tofu cubes, and each small tofu is low and can only accommodate people. Don't have its warmth. Her parents were very old, she was the youngest daughter born late, and the older one married, she was the only daughter, and she was very favored, so I became a little guest. Her family may be considered a "rich person" in the military dependents' village, because they opened a small grocery store, and children would come to buy a bubblegum or a bottle of vinegar from time to time. It seemed that it was not yet time to eat, but for some reason, the second old man suddenly made up his mind to let us eat a bowl of noodles. They are bannermen, and they are especially nice when they speak politely, and they are especially righteous. The noodles are ready, it is sesame sauce noodles, only two bowls, the two old people do not eat. Her father was in charge of thinning and mixing the sesame paste—and serving it on the table, then he turned and walked away. His feet were not good, and he walked half a step forward.

Just as he turned around, I suddenly saw that he turned his back and slowly licked the remaining sesame paste on the tip of his chopsticks. Although he couldn't see the expression on his face, he intuitively knew that he was enjoying the aroma of a little sesame paste from the tip of the chopsticks. Just because of that kind of respect and prudence, people don't feel that it is shabby, and they only feel that they are watching a pious, respectful, almost religious ceremony. I don't know why, but such a picture has been preserved in my heart for a third of a century and cannot be forgotten.

She's my friend and we got along very well. That was thirty years ago when I was in middle school. We exchange each other as documents, which is probably equivalent to adults allowing others to see their own projects! I vaguely understand that her parents are not of the same class as mine, but who cares about that? We have been dating for a long time, but we have never been to each other's house. At that time, the time for girls to leave school and go home was determined by their parents, and there was no reason to go to a classmate's house to play. One day, presumably due to an exam, school was dismissed early—I finally went to her house to play. Her home is far from the school and is a military dependents village. In fact, my family is also a military dependents village, but the military dependents' villages are different. It looks like a ship's cabin, with a large horizontal row, cut into many small rooms like tofu cubes, and each small tofu is low and can only accommodate people. Don't have its warmth. Her parents were very old, she was the youngest daughter born late, and the older one married, she was the only daughter, and she was very favored, so I became a little guest. Her family may be considered a "rich person" in the military dependents' village, because they opened a small grocery store, and children would come to buy a bubblegum or a bottle of vinegar from time to time. It seemed that it was not yet time to eat, but for some reason, the second old man suddenly made up his mind to let us eat a bowl of noodles. They are bannermen, and they are especially nice when they speak politely, and they are especially righteous. The noodles are ready, it is sesame sauce noodles, only two bowls, the two old people do not eat. Her father was in charge of thinning and mixing the sesame paste—and serving it on the table, then he turned and walked away. His feet were not good, and he walked half a step forward.

Just as he turned around, I suddenly saw that he turned his back and slowly licked the remaining sesame paste on the tip of his chopsticks. Although he couldn't see the expression on his face, he intuitively knew that he was enjoying the aroma of a little sesame paste from the tip of the chopsticks. Just because of that kind of respect and prudence, people don't feel that it is shabby, and they only feel that they are watching a pious, respectful, almost religious ceremony. I don't know why, but such a picture has been preserved in my heart for a third of a century and cannot be forgotten.