To a Friend : Come Spend My Summ with me

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My name is KuanKuan#找搭子 #找搭子 #找搭子 #找搭子 #找搭子      , 12, and I live in Hangzhou. When cicada songs scatter like glass beads under the sun, my summer already soaks in the breeze of the West Lake—morning trips with Dad to Yanggongdi Dyke to catch lively green shrimp, their tin bottle sloshing; dusk squats by Hefang Street’s old popsicle stall, watching an aunt scoop lotus root starch pudding. Osmanthus mingles with brown sugar’s sweetness, sweeter than ice cream.

Summer hides in my old alley: Grandma Wang’s bamboo chair dries jasmine tea; Grandpa Zhang’s radio hums Yueju opera. I sit on the threshold with a watermelon, watching cross-winds billow blue cloth shirts on the line, lifting the bamboo curtain.

Mom bakes Dingsheng Cake—red bean paste wrapped in glutinous rice’s fragrance. Bite in, and it “puffs” soft to your heart. “This sweet,” she says, “has been here since the Southern Song. Share it with friends far.”

If you come: We’ll watch lotus fall into bamboo baskets at Quyuan Fenghe, counting red dragonflies by the lake. Ride bikes along the Grand Canal, wind rushing through school sleeves. At Gongchen Bridge, an old boatman will call, “Kid, want a Dingsheng Cake?”

Let’s swap: You teach me “West Lake Vinegar Fish” in your language; I’ll fold Hangzhou paper boats. You tell Christmas tree tales; I’ll share Leifeng Pagoda’s old stories…

I’m Xiaoyuan, 12, from Hangzhou. This summer, my small bamboo table has a spot for you. Frozen lotus pods wait in the fridge. Cicadas shout for me: “Come quick!”