Shenyang, 2025
给国内手机号换上8元的保号套餐，他完成了出国前的最后一件事。明天，这个年轻的做题家就要离开家乡，飞往地球的另一端。
他已经可以完成很多小时候梦寐以求的事情。他坐在汽车的驾驶位，窗户可以降到最低，把手自由地伸出窗外；他随意地走进一家麦当劳，大口吃起垃圾食品；他从冰箱里掏出啤酒，回到房间打上一晚的游戏。
遥想高中毕业，他意气风发，疯也似的骑着共享单车到最繁华的商场前自拍，狂言世界就在眼前。
如今，时代的大变局压得他喘不过气。他知道，“地球村”的童谣濒临幻灭，时代的一粒沙已然飘下，自己可能几年无法回家。
他转回到小学门口，去了以前每天放学都去的文具店，店主比记忆里的发福了些。他没好意思问起当年，只匆匆买了一卷双面胶。
转头发现店门口挂着的竟然还是悠悠球和魔方，姥爷曾给他买了满满一抽屉。20年时光流过，最爱他的人已经离开了他。
他一直觉得自己不了解也不喜欢家乡。他不太认识路，也不知道哪里好吃，哪里好玩。因为花了太多时间做题，他的记忆停留在学校、补习班和往返两者之间的汽车后座。
可临别之际，他的泪水止不住地流。他恍然明白，为什么古人会"睹物思人"，“触景生情”。因为物和景是情的载体，而情是因人而生的。只要做题家的心里有人在，他与家乡的羁绊就在。
He switched his phone to an 8-yuan keeper plan—the last thing to do before leaving. Tomorrow, this young grade chaser would leave home and fly to the other side of the world.
Now he could do all the things he’d dreamed of as a child. He sat behind the wheel, window rolled down all the way, arm hanging freely in the wind. He walked into McDonald’s without thinking twice, gulping down junk food. He pulled a beer from the fridge and spent the whole night gaming in his room.
He remembered graduating high school—so full of fire then, pedaling a shared bike like mad to the grandest mall in town, taking selfies, swearing the world was his for the taking.
Now, the weight of history pressed down on his chest. The “global village” they’d promised him was crumbling. When the era shifts, even a grain of sand can bury you. He might not see home again for years.
He found himself back at his elementary school gates, at the stationery shop he’d visited every afternoon after class. The owner had gotten heavier. He didn’t dare bring up those years—just bought a roll of tape and left.
As he turned to go, he noticed the yo-yos and Rubik’s cubes still dangling by the door. His grandfather had once filled an entire drawer with them for him. Twenty years had slipped past. The person who loved him most was gone.
He’d always thought he didn’t understand this place. Didn’t even like it much. He couldn’t find his way around, didn’t know where the good restaurants were, where people went to have fun. He’d spent too much time buried in test prep—his memories were all classrooms, cram schools, and the back seat of the car shuttling between them.
But now, on the eve of leaving, tears streamed down his face without permission. Suddenly he understood those old sayings: “Objects carry memories of those we’ve lost.” “Landscapes stir the heart.” Because things and places hold our feelings, and feelings come from the people we love. As long as he carries them in his heart, his hometown will always be with him.
Translation by Claude