Depiction：
I remember in my childhood, whenever there’s a temple fair in the village, villagers would
always invite a troupe to perform grand operas for several days. This was the most fascinating
and all-consuming entertainment at that time. When a village staged an opera, folks all-around
the area would quickly gather, forming a spectacular scene. Especially those elderly over
sixty years old, would spare no effort and never shy away from the bad weather, immediately
immersing themselves in the familiar plots, dementedly forgetting the joys and sorrows of
the world. During the daytimes, most audience was older people, but at nights, many young
people would gather from all directions, making the occasion incredibly exciting. The sound of
gongs and drums from the evening performance would travel far and wide through the quiet
night, making it seem as if the performance was right in one's own village. The babble singing
and the thunderous gongs and drums, even after decades, still ring in my ears nowadays,
sonorous and lingering, immediately intoxicating me in the hazy memories, like a painting,
like a dream, entwined and enduring, both present and elusive.
