Zhanjiang’s weather is like a child’s face, which changes when it is said. The heavy rain in the morning ticked away, and the dark clouds faded away in a flash. The sky was clear and the sun was half smiling in the clouds.. On the basketball court at the gate of Mengcun Primary School, villagers busily sunned the harvested rice, peanuts and other crops. The bright sunshine scattered on their straw hats, strong shoulders and rough palms … Ah, what a peaceful scene, what a familiar feeling, as if I had seen the little girl with a rake basking in the valley, as if she had returned to the hometown where there was a Hall of the Earth, where the adults were busy working and the children were running to make trouble … Ah, too familiar with it.! It’s like my hometown. It’s not developed, it’s very simple and it exudes a natural atmosphere everywhere.. However, this hometown is not his hometown. Here, I can’t see stars blinking all over the sky, I can’t find flickering fireflies, I can’t reach my dear family . Ah, after all, I’m homesick. After a long stay in Zhanjiang city, facing the eyeful high-rise buildings and summer, facing the crowded roads and all kinds of people, it is hard to avoid fatigue. Most of the time, I want to be quiet, want to empty myself, want to run crazily in the place I know, and release my true self.. This hometown is not his hometown, I miss you, my hometown, I want to go home.