It snowed so hard tonight. I could feel the wind piercing through my ribs. A snowy Spring Festival eve, it just made me feel sadder and lonely. It had snowed the day I was walking on the road and I had wandered without any purpose just like now. I did not like the weather.

  I quarreled with my family 2 hours ago. I always quarreled with my family from their interminable sayings. Tonight things did happen. I could not stand any longer and rushed the door, leaving my dissatisfaction, “I want my own independence.” And therefore, I got the independence — standing solely under the cloudy sky.

   When I turned to a newspaper stand, what I saw could make my heart destroyed. An old man was asleep on the frozen ground and the snow was down, covering his body step by step. An old army blanket lay across his knees and the weight of his arm held it there at the chilly night. The poor man huddled himself up, being all of a tremble. His dry and cracked lips kept shivery constantly — was it blaming God for giving him an unfair treatment or praying for a warm bed? In front of him, a rusty bowl was crying for being invaded by the wind.

   I went towards him. I took the old army blanket from his arm and spread it over the old man’s shoulders. They were strange shoulders, still powerful although very old, and the neck was still strong too and the creases did not show so much when the old man was asleep. His shirt had been patched so many times that it was like the sail and the patches were reflected to many different shades by the snow. The old man’s head was very old though and with his eyes closed there was no life in his face. He was barefooted.

   Any word was useless at that time. Moreover, I could not speak from my wet throat and couldn’t see from my damp eyes. It seemed that I saw perceptibly a bit of smile on the old man’s face. I could picture that he was flying over the sky with his wide and flawless wings, breathing the tasty air, and sharing the mild touch of the warmest sunshine. I hoped so. I took all of my money out of my pocket, putting into the old man’s bowl which had been full of snow.

   On my way home, I did not truly feel cold because the pain in my heart had almost passed cold and gone into a dullness that I mistrusted. Indeed, despite all the progress humanity has made in the last couple of thousand years, to say nothing of the last several decades, when it comes down to it, what still matters most of us is our lives and our loved ones. A voice told me, “I must go home.”

   Tomorrow will be Spring Festival. Tomorrow will be another day.