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The time was late May, and the bubbling cicada chirps outside the window were the prelude to the height of summer, as the weather grew hotter and hotter.
Yan Han stood on the balcony, face tilted upward, imagining the world outside brimming with life when the high summer arrived.
Although she could see nothing, summer had the strongest presence for Yan Han.
In spring, she could smell the fragrance of various flowers; in autumn, by tilting her ear to listen, she could hear the rustling of falling leaves; winter's hallmark was the "crunch crunch" sound of walking on snow.
Summer was richest in sounds.
All day long, there were incessant cicada songs and precisely timed bird calls at dawn and dusk.
Yan Han was often awakened by bird calls in the morning.
When she was younger, she would often hear the so-called "pleasant" songs of birds, such as orioles and thrushes.
Now, it's mostly the common city sparrows, or the silly spotted doves.
