Sunday. At eight o'clock in the morning, I got up and turned off the alarm that I had set last night, got up to wash, shaved, put on a white half-sleeved T-shirt, and went to the balcony to find a three-color plaid casual shirt that had been dried and a pair of jeans to put on.

The sound of a TV news program can be heard in the homes of the residents downstairs, and it seems to be that a park will be held today.

It was a cloudless summer morning, with a slight wind, probably because it rained at night somewhere near Changchun, so there was a hint of coolness in the wind, and it was indeed rare to have such weather in summer.

A black Mercedes-Benz sedan was parked at the east exit of the residence, and two white cats were lazily crouching on the hood, squinting in the sun; On a small gym nearby, three or four boys from junior high school were practicing passing and catching the ball, each wearing the jerseys of a famous European football club, giving the impression that the players had gathered together during their vacation, ready to go to the bar for a drink!

I had a quick breakfast at the breakfast shop downstairs and then walked along Liberty Avenue to the stadium bus stop.

At this time of the weekend, many people are still asleep, the traffic on the Liberty Avenue is not large, the buses are empty, and the sidewalks are scarce, so the Liberty Avenue is wider than usual, and outside the main entrance of the stadium are gathered some middle school students, who are either carrying skateboards or roller skates, as if they are preparing to train here.

I waited less than 20 minutes at the stadium station before boarding a 160 bus. There weren't many passengers on the bus either, six of us!

The men were all students, three men and two women, and I sat in a separate window seat.

The three boys gathered in the seats at the front of the carriage, chatting happily, and bursts of laughter came from time to time.

Two girls sat in the window seat on the other side of the carriage across the aisle, and the two chatted quietly, one of them carefully holding the knotted gift box with both hands, and the other holding their backpacks in his arms, sometimes smiling and sometimes thinking when chatting.

The scenes and people I saw this morning all exuded a leisurely atmosphere, like a weekend edition of a leisure magazine being opened, and I lifted the light blue curtain on the car window, and a new page of pictures came colorfully.

After the No. 160 bus drove up Satellite Road, you were greeted by a beautiful view of the suburbs. The fields are dotted with rectangular, strip-shaped and other shapes of corn, wheat and sorghum.

Looking through the car window, it looks like a block of color in an abstract painting, which makes people feel both mysterious and inexplicably intimate.

One or two scarecrows stood among the peasants, like messengers praying for a good harvest, gazing at the vibrant land.

With the convective wind pouring into the carriage, the smell begins to fill the smell with the fragrance of earth. Adjacent to the narrow strip of roadside, there is a sunflower, blooming in this season, when the eyes pass, the vision leaves a bright color, countless sunflower corollas make people feel a little dazzled, gusts of wind blow, the corolla swings with the wind, the petals are like the lace of the skirt fluttering briskly, swaying with dazzling brilliance, also like a Tingting dancing queen, is holding a grand court ball here.