After that hug, I hadn't seen Mr. Hu for a long time, and I suddenly realized that I still didn't know his full name.

Eliot's brutal April was finally overcome, and the May sun was stronger than ever. I leaned against the window and looked out at the camphor trees growing in the light, fragrant and unassuming

Brooks came to see me three times, and we always had a meal in the nursing home cafeteria, and then he took me out for a walk, and once he ran into Smith, and it was like running into a teacher outside the family.

My hair grew again, from the shoulder-length mid-length to the chest down. On the day Brooks was there, he accompanied me to ask the nurse for a leave of absence to go outside and cut my hair. The young barber asked me how I wanted to cut it, and I just said to cut it shorter.

The final hairstyle was a bit unexpected, and the length of the hair that fell down was just right to the chin, and it was not permed or dyed.

"Very cute." The barber looked at his work with satisfaction.

"Smith said you've been recovering well lately, you're obedient, and you're willing to talk to him about something."

"I want to start over. I studied music and I want to go back to Flushing or China and start my life all over again. I'm still young, and it's not too late. ”

Brooks continued to encourage me and helped me get Smith off for a few days off to leave the nursing home. Seeing that I was getting better, Smith allowed me to stay outside for a week.

I didn't go back to Flushing this week, I packed my bags and went straight to the airport, and then I took a plane to Alaska alone. The plane stopped at Anchorage Airport and saw a different part of New York.

I came, but I had a dream from prison.

At the end of May, the temperature in Alaska was still below 10 degrees. I got out of Anchorage Airport to catch a ride to the small town of Seward. Passing through a city surrounded by mountains, the mountains and cold give the city a desolate atmosphere. The journey was long, and I thought it would be a long time to get there, so I had to put on headphones to listen to the song and take a nap in the car by the way.

Finally the driver woke me up from my slumber, and I arrived at my accommodation, a cheap motel, dizzy.

But the environment inside is better than I expected, although the place is a little smaller, but there is also a private bathroom, the only thing is that the sheets have a strange smell.

The innkeeper is a very welcoming person, probably used to seeing tourists like me. He introduced me to the small town of Seward, which is backed by snow-capped mountains and faces the sea, and many Americans like to drive all the way north to enjoy the scenery and go for a picnic by the sea. He said a lot, and I pretended not to understand and asked him where I could find a guide to hike in the mountains. He gave me a number, and he was afraid that I couldn't speak English well, so he took the initiative to help me contact the other party.

The person recommended to me by the owner of the landlord was Alex, a nineteen-year-old college student, a native of Alaska, who would earn some money as a tour guide in his hometown when he was fine.

I told him the purpose of my hike and he told me that I was the first Chinese he received. Now the speed of news is very fast, and many people have come to make a pilgrimage to that green bus every year in the past few years. He also sighed, what can those people get in the end?

Even at the bottom of the mountain, I was still at peace. We walked a long way, and my feet ached from pantothenes.

I saw a black commemorative board with bold white letters in capital letters; Before I die...... Below there are rows of lowercase: "Before I die I want to" and various answers, all in English.

Alex told me that I could write down my wishes and brought me a piece of chalk from the side. I hesitantly took it, and hesitated in front of the stumbling memorial board that had already been written.

After thinking about it for a long time, I still don't know what to write.

"I don't know what to write." I confessed to him and gave him back the chalk.

"It's okay, when you see that bus later, maybe you'll know what to write. Many people have complained to me that what they want to write after seeing the bus is completely different from what they have already written. ”

We continued on foot, deep into the wilderness, and I was dressed in a white cotton suit, already rubbed by sawdust and other dirt from the woods.

Alex went on to introduce me: "His sister drew a mathematically infinite symbol (∞) on the bus and left the phrase 'I love you forever'. ”

"But he wrote 'Beautiful Blueberries' himself."

"Yes, he's so cute, and so naughty at the end. I prefer the ending of the movie: I have had a happy life and thank the lord. I have lived a happy life, thank the Lord, farewell, may God bless all. I believe that the real Chris must have had this experience when he died, but he didn't really express it, and he only left a very shallow figure in the world. ”

"Just like he came here without hesitation with a bag on his back, he was always stubborn and refused to admit defeat. Are there still more people coming here now? ”

"Of course, there were the most in the first year, and there are more now."

"In another ten years, no one will remember him."

"I don't know."

Alex spread his hands a little helplessly.

"Man's forgetfulness is always the greatest." I say.

We went back to the black memorial board, and Alex asked me if I wanted to write now. I was silent, then picked up a piece of white chalk and wrote in the corner: Remember to go home.

This is the only Chinese sentence on the entire memorial board.

As I wrote, Alex sat on the floor drinking water and resting, and I stood looking out at the vast land, closing my eyes in an attempt to hear Chris's voice.

Even though I knew it wasn't possible.

So I cried.

But there is no causal relationship between these two things.

I'm just homesick.

What Alex just told me about Sister Chris's touched me deeply.

After wandering for a long time in North America, a land that does not belong to me, my heart is becoming more and more resigned, and I miss my family and hometown more and more. His sister always loved him, but I didn't love my family, they never gave me a chance to sigh on them. They hate me too.

Over the past few years, I have tried to suppress the deepest emotions in my heart, the emotions that I refuse to admit, one by one in the wilderness at this moment, and I miss the fireworks of my childhood and the scene of eating Chinese New Year's Eve with my family. It's been a long time. Those memories.

"It's been four years, four whole years." I shouted in my heart.

I covered my mouth, at first I just whimpered, and then a large amount of emotion poured out, and the long-suppressed loneliness and hatred, grievance and loneliness, made me collapse and cry silently.

I cried louder and louder, and Alex was terrified by me. He probably hadn't seen any stranger than me, so he could only look at me in a daze.

Fortunately, I didn't go crazy, and when I was tired of crying, I wiped away my tears and asked him to take me back.

It was a short ride back and Alex peeked at me in the rearview mirror, asking me if I wanted to drink water. Then I had a headache, took out the pill box from my bag, swallowed two Flupentixol and Melitracen Tables, asked Alex for a bottle of water, took a sip of the pill, and made my way back to the hotel.