Zhang Ji came from a humble background. His family was poor when he was young, so he stayed away from his hometown at a very young age. By the time he was twenty-five or six years old, he had already experienced a wandering life. Traveling around all year round, wandering in foreign lands.

On a quiet night, Zhang Ji finished his dinner and sat in the small courtyard admiring the bright moonlight. The round moon hung high in the sky, adding infinite vitality to the dark earth. As he watched, suddenly a gust of autumn wind blew, making people feel extremely desolate and sad. He had no choice but to go back to the house and find an old cotton-padded jacket from the closet that his mother had sewn for him before he left. Looking at the old cotton-padded jacket, I couldn't help but think of his elderly mother, the hometown where he was born and raised, and the folks, elders, relatives and friends who spent time with him day and night. He picked up the pen, laid out the paper, and began to write a letter to express his thoughts.

As Zhang Ji was writing, he was thinking that there were so many things to write that he didn’t know where to start. One after another, past events came to his mind: the comfort of his elderly mother, the memories of his childhood. Interesting anecdotes, the father who was suffering from illness... the crystal tears fell on the letter paper and turned into lines of touching words. The letter contained sweet blessings, sincere greetings, and grateful memories...

After the letter was written, Zhang Ji read it again and again, fearing that he would write some unpleasant things that would make his parents worry about him. I am also worried about whether I will write less.

Zhang Ji handed the letter to the sender. When the sender was about to leave, he took the letter back, opened it, checked it again, and added: You must live happily. It’s better to spend every day, don’t be unhappy because of little things... After writing this, Zhang Jicai handed the letter to the messenger. The messenger galloped away on horseback and disappeared in the rustling autumn wind.

Zhang Ji looked at the messenger who was leaving, feeling both happy and sad in his heart. The good thing is that my mother can see my letter; the sad thing is that I don’t know when I can return to my hometown.