1992 to 1993, there was a program called "8: 30 tonight" in china national radio. I once heard a prose poem "Give me a winter" one day.

Will you give me a winter? In the morning, will you find many white and delicate flowers blooming tenaciously under the sky outside the window? Now I can only open these flowers for you. They are not even far-fetched. They nodded or shook their heads in the wind like me. They didn't tell me the trace of my fragile feet standing before dawn. I really hope you don't wake up right away. I found my shadow receding like a flood. I found that the autumn behind me was just some rags on the earth. It's not just ancient desires that remain in the cup. What bitterness is flowing in my veins. When there is only a gap between you and me, the meaning can only be tears. Give me a winter, give me a sober north wind, and I will run hard in the boundless wasteland and cover the yellow grass with white prayers. Melt those ugly fortresses. Give me the coldest season. For you, I am willing to bear the hardships of my life and salvage the days when we accidentally fell into the biting glacier. Don't say waiting is not just a winter. Honey, you have to be strong. Even if the years devour all the stars I gave you, there will be no shelter from the wind and rain on the barren land.