Korean Barbecue, scratchboard drawing, Liz Xu ‘24

rose up to the high sky, exerting force as all the light separated into a yellow, giant, circular-shaped firework, followed by red, green, and purple ones.

But it all disappeared in 2017 when I moved to America for education. That year, the night was so quiet because the snow covered the roads, our backyard, and everything. But our spirit remained. We still woke up early to organize and clean the house, wiping away the old dust. We still managed to cook many celebrational foods, eat with joyful smiles, and joke with each other, but only with four of my family members: my mom, dad, brother, and I. We still watched the annual tv show, except that it was not on CCTV channel four, but the international TV channel. That year, we stayed in the house at night for the first time during the spring festival, watching the snow falling from the dark sky on the opposite side of the world. It was so quiet outside that we felt a part of us was missing.

During the Covid-19 pandemic between 2020 and 2021, TikTok became famous, and it was one of the ways that I got caught up with Chinese viral trends and news. Recently, the Chinese New Year and the Beijing Winter Olympics-related videos filled up my entire FYP (For-You Page). It shook my memory about the 2008 Beijing Olympics. I was only five years old then, sitting in front of a small television, watching the women’s sprint event even though The National Stadium, also known as the Bird’s Nest, where all the events were held, was only 20 minutes away from my home. Scrolling through TikTok these days makes me feel nostalgic—childhood memories and moments keep coming up in my mind like gas bubbles floating to the top of the water, but each scene is also brief, popping and disappearing immediately as it reaches the surface. Annie Dai ‘22

Korean Barbecue

Liz Xu ‘24 Scholastic Gold Key