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🆕Today is 2️⃣🈷️the 1️⃣st day, the morning sunshine is infused with the fragrance of the New Year.

Opening the window, the air already carries a faint scent of firecrackers—it's a taste of memories, mixed with the chill of late winter. On the calendar, the words "Spring Festival" are edged and bold, red and solid, like a grandmother patiently waiting for you to come home, sitting on the doorstep.😘

The old lady downstairs has started to air the bedding, waiting for the children's return; the flavor of New Year’s cured meats and sausages, shiny deep red strings, hang on the security bars, cutting the sunlight into fine golden flakes.

Life suddenly has something to look forward to. Not in a hurry, but in a slow, certain warmth. Like a pot of soup simmering on the stove, bubbling gently, filling the whole month with a warm mist. It’s time to call my mother far away; she must also be calculating the return date. In my phone, the family group chat has already become lively.🥰, 🧧Red envelopes and blessings🎁 are the characters of the digital age.🔣

As the year ends, we look back; as the new spring peeks in. This month that connects the past and the future, even the wind blowing on the face feels soft.🥰