Before the sun turns in the morning, the wet sea fog envelops the entire Haikou, and the high-rise buildings loom in the sea fog, although it is like a fairyland, but the touch of the hair completely soaked in a few minutes always reminds the cloth of the feeling of earthworms crawling and curling in the thin mud. Under the heavy fog, Haikou is like a ship sailing on the sea covered with sea fog, making people have no place to fall.

Bu Shang plans to go back to the mainland.

After browsing the information on the website for performances in various theaters in Beijing, before the Qingming Festival, he took off from Meilan Airport and arrived in Beijing that night, where he checked into an inconspicuous hotel in the hutongs, as was customary. I woke up early the next day and went to the theater according to the tickets booked by the assistant.

The show lasts for two hours. The story of the inner monologue of the masked heroine in pursuit of unattainable love, the actor uses the body as a language, the voice is a monologue, sometimes innocent, sometimes poignant, sometimes courageous, and natural under the background of the drums.

Surrounded by the sobs of the surrounding audience, echoing the weakness and weakness of the performer's passion after being hit, and resonating with the strength and weakening of vitality, the things in life that make me sad emerge one by one in my mind, provoking one sting feeling after another in my heart...... At the same time, he mourned the purity of his youth that he had lost forever, and wiped the tears that he couldn't wipe away in the dark.

On the night he came out of the theater, he felt puffy bags under his eyes, and the next day his head was dizzy and exhausted, but he felt refreshed and clean from the cloudiness.

This has great benefits for the body, so the tears that deliberately rely on external forces flow for a long time, and the cloth calls it "the tears of their own old man". In the dark auditorium on the opposite side of the lit stage, everyone did not see each other, but heard the continuous sobbing.

He did not know how many of the sobbing crowd shed tears of personal pain with the help of drama. In the midst of his own heartache, he imagined the old men entering the theater in a neat line, on crutches, their eyes puffy and strawberry-like with age spots, now hidden in the darkness, shedding the experience of age, breaking free from the strong confinement, sobbing alone or weeping bitterly.

Roughly every other year, Bu Shang went to Beijing alone, stayed in the same hotel, went to the scheduled theater performances, and used the plot and atmosphere to carry out an unscrupulous, or hypocritical, baptism of tears.