The light ting of the wooden xylophone, akin to the sound of water droplets falling on a stone, emanated from the old music box in the attic, slightly distorted, a popular tune from many years ago.
The song was soothing and full of nostalgia, like the hazy silhouette disappearing under the setting sun, a blur that was once the best playmate of one's childhood, but whose face and name have since been forgotten.
Gu Qianlou silently sat in the attic he hadn't visited for many years, looking at everything that was once familiar in the room, recalling some memories from the past when he was young and impulsive, dreaming of changing many things, toppling the disliked adults and predecessors.
But in the end, he didn't do so. As he grew up, he understood the difficulties in everything he did, realizing that just maintaining the status quo was challenging enough.
Gradually, he had become one of those adults he used to despise, but he never regretted it.
