When a sixteen-year-old girl is standing at the crossroad, waiting to walk to the opposite side of the street, she feels the whole world is watching her. Although she is so bashful as to shrink from crashing into anyone else’s keen sight, but the intuition tells----everybody around her or far away but have her in sight is keeping their eyes on her, at least for a while, which is enough to make her delighted to keep the journey on . She feels to be lit up as well as jejune, but that she takes efforts to mind whether she dresses decently, behaves elegantly and talk properly everyday never seems be in vain. It is her that makes the sun radiant in the clear blue sky; it is her that makes the trees bloom in the spring breeze; it is her makes the world marvelously goes around. It is her that the God has created simply unique.
Does the world really whirl for her? On the sidewalk, austere passerby, being too busy to throw the girl a slight glance, are rushing up and down as if they were running for the last piece of bread on the world for survival; on the streets, burdened cars are shuttling continually, with nothing but exhaust gas giving off; in the cerulean sky, high-grade airplanes are howling over like a proud, magnificent soldier overseeing his dearest fascinating motherland, and then disappears in the impenetrable holy-white clouds. “The world is changing too fast! We have to catch up with it.” is all what is on everyone’s lips. Who else will pay attention to such an unsophisticated girl who has never suffered from life or been pushed by life, let alone understood life-----is all what people think of.
The cars are stopped, and the girl continues her walk. She sees all the beauty exposed by the wonderful world, but never does these burned-out men, because they have gone through their sixteen and can never turn round.
