Wings on the Green Field

“Don’t worry, I’m doing just fine. Mom, come on, you know the winters here are about the same as back home—there’s no way I’d catch a chill,” Dai Zhiwei said, holding the receiver, leaning against the rooftop railing, gazing at the scene through the apartment windows across the street.

“Yeah, Mom, I know. I promise, this New Year I’ll bring Tingting home with me.” As his mother’s nagging filtered through the earpiece, Dai Zhiwei silently sipped his Budweiser, then forced a bright laugh. “Just the other day, she was saying she wanted to buy you a designer handbag. Yes! That LV everyone’s always talking about online. Mm, it didn’t cost that much.”

“...”

“Oh, you mean my boss? He’s really easygoing, a great guy. Just yesterday he said if we have to work overtime during the holidays, he’ll see about giving me a bigger year-end bonus. Not that I expect it to be much...”

It was New Year’s Day, 2021. There was still a month to go before the Spring Festival, and those far from home missed most keenly that place which, though perhaps neither grand nor even comfortable, was still their home.

Going home for the New Year—it’s an attachment no one in our country can ever truly sever.

“Yeah, I need to get back to work in a bit… You and Dad take care of yourselves, okay? You know, there aren’t any holidays abroad, so we reporters just have to stick around here… I’m hanging up now, bye!”

No sooner had Dai Zhiwei put down the phone than he let out a long sigh. His face instantly shifted from exuberance to dejection. He ran a hand through his hair