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The sun did not appear on the expected weekend, the weekend was a hidden weather, the sky was full of thick clouds, and the autumn rain fell, the ground, wet, the mountains, also became bleak, clear. The air, there is wind blowing from time to time, that wind, there is a cold, blowing on the face, drilling into the clothes, people shudder, although in autumn rain, and cold, let this place full of cold, but the smoke rising in the stove, but brought people warmth, coal burning in the stove, the pot on the stove kept shouting. I think when it is cold, it should be around the warm stove, eating and chatting with the laughter of the sky, forgetting the cold, forgetting the trouble I vaguely remember the story that was not finished last time. The person who listened to the story became the storyteller, and the storyteller became the storyteller.