In chilly winds of early April, Yang Yongfu, 46, walked in an internal passageway in a section of Great Wall stretching up to the mountaintop. Yang limped along the ridge of the mountain range and reached the signal fire platform at the top. He is not a tourist, but the constructor of the 760-m long Great Wall conjunct with three signal fire platforms.
Twenty minutes before class began my dad called: "What did you have for lunch?" "I'm eating now. Noodles with egg stew." "Now? Won't you be late for class?"
Make a right turn at the western entrance of Beijing's Chaoyang Park, and you'll encounter a building that looks like a cross between an office and a museum. If you walk further to the side lawn, you'll come upon phalanxes of miniature sculptures.
At 7 am in an old house, we are trying to keep a conversation going with granny. We get up too early and are not quite ourselves. Granny offers us boiled corns and a cigarette to the only young man among us.
The taxi and the elevator are quite similar in that they confine people in a limited space with complete strangers. The experience is somewhat scary, but also full of hope. Since I came to the nation's capital some 20 years ago, I've found that the common belief that Beijing's taxi drivers are political commentators is quite far from the truth.
When cross talk performers are sparring back and forth with exaggerated facial expressions and humorous speech, few are concerned with the scenarists behind the curtain. Ma Guirong, a prolific scenarist for many well-known cross talk shows, has drawn attention for her efforts of adding laughter and luster to our lives.
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