That evening was particularly radiant. I accompanied my father to buy fish in the market. Dizzy light had already made me drowsy, but I still spotted it immediately - the little goldfish struggling in a small pond. It felt as if it was about to tip over. But it didn't like to swim around, only to stay quietly in the fish tank.

"It's not easy to keep. You might as well take a look at the tiger-skin king beside it." the shopkeeper said.

I forgot, perhaps I believed what the shopkeeper said. But I only remember that on that day when my father held a watermelon, and I held the plastic bag with the small fish in it.

I named it Nellie. It sounded very strong. It died on the third day. My grandmother said she had overheated it. So, I got Nellie No. 1 again. This time I held a fan for it in the morning and afternoon, but it didn't appreciate it, and when it saw someone nearby. It would swim around aimlessly. It died on the second day. Perhaps it was too cold.

I buried Nellie and Nellie No. 1 like the books said, in a clay pot at home. My grandmother said fish and I were incompatible and shouldn't keep any more fish. So I also gave up the idea of keeping fish.

My memory is already vague, saying it was caused by a summer swim. My father and I were playing on the beach. I was afraid of everything, and I only remembered sitting on the shore watching people swimming. Suddenly I remembered the fish I used to have at home and how much I loved watching them. I was an outsider, but they enjoyed the baptism of water. So, I jumped into the sea without raising my head or looking at people, imagining the days when I would become friends with Nellie, imagining what it would be like without light, and a sudden fatal sense came rushing towards me, while I blew bubbles and enjoyed happiness.

I no longer remember how I was pulled ashore, but it must have been quite amusing. I wonder how people managed to lift a 160-pound junior high school boy like me. I was very happy, as I was baptized by the water like a fish. My father frowned and forbade me from going swimming again.

My father remarried, and the ceremony was grand. I took a small pot and dug three or four shovels of soil, bringing back part of Nellie or part of where Nellie lived.

It grew into a small sapling in its first year, and the family thought it was a good omen. But no matter how much I cared for it, it was still just a slightly older sapling the next year. The family did not despise it, but they did not cherish it either, as my sister was born that year, and our lives became increasingly tense. I told her about my fish Nellie and me.

"Why did it die?"

"I don't know, Grandma said one died because it was too hot and the other because it was too cold."

"Do you talk to her every day?"

"No, I don't talk to her, but I always go to see them when I have time. And I even used a leaf fan to fan the second one."

"It probably starved to death."

"Absolutely not! I fed them every hour."

"Then it must have died from eating too much."

My sister joined the team to protect the fish. My flower pot is named No.7, because there were seven small stones around the small green bud. My sister supervised me to water the soil every day, not too much, not too little.

"It's the nutrients that matter! The sun must be full, and you must give the company of number seven." In this way, my sister took the small flower pot to school, went to yoga to learn how to breathe together, went to see the mountains and rivers of many places, and went to see the yard that had been abandoned before.

The number seven flower is growing greener every day under the nourishment of her sister. But I lost my roots, missed the grade graduate exams, and always seemed to have some bad luck. I decided to leave town and forget Nellie, the sea and my sister for a while.

On my way to the station, my sister suddenly stopped me and gave me the No.7 flowerpot, saying it was a symbol of good luck. I promised my sister that I would take it everywhere, write it in my diary, and water it every day. I came to the workshop holding the No. 7 flowerpot, people looked at me with strange eyes, laughing at the ignorance of people in the town.

In order not to disappoint my sister, I put it in the corner of the apartment where there is a sun, so that it can absorb nutrients. But I've long since lost my companionship and some of my earthy attachments. Life in the city was not easy. I had nightmares every night, many of which were pranks played by the town kids, and many of which were water-related. I could not see myself, and I could not see the time in those dreams. I was trapped in the dark, I called out my sister's name, but no voice was heard and no light was illuminated. I was already desperate.

But somehow, life just keeps getting better. I got a promotion, and my boss told me I was hardworking and eager to learn. There were always difficulties in the uncertain weather. Flower pot No. 7 blossomed. It's now on top of the wall in my apartment. The No.7 flowerpot brings me good luck. That's for sure. I expected rain, storm and thunder. It will bring out Nellie's true nature. It will. I moved the flowerpot under the bed, so that it lost all the nutrients. I let it lying on the ground, let it lying with me and I looked up at the stars in the sky.

Slowly, it got hot, and I panicked for my Nellie to grow. Finally, that afternoon, thunder and lightning, I rushed into the rain, with me and my number seven flowerpot, standing in the middle of the road.

I was in a trance that people were going to take everything from me, and my number seven flowerpot. I struggled mightily to say that I was Nellie, to tell them the absurdity of it all. After all, they no longer cared about me, but my heart was so painful. I tightly held the five-meter weed pot. Pieces of earth and seven stones fell. But I held on to my roots.

In a trance, I saw my own funeral. My sister did not come. She was too small; Father didn't come. He was busy with everything; Mother did not come. She had followed the waves to the new town. Only the fish seller attended the ceremony.

The sun was shining, and I was thrown into an abandoned swimming pool. I wanted to swim, swim to the best position, but I have lost the moving body, the swimming soul, and one summer long ago.

The fish seller carried two large plastic bags. Inside are all kinds of small goldfish. They sank in this water, and I enjoyed a long peace. The fishman soon left.

"He could only hang out with the fish," said the fish salesman.

I yearned for this feeling, the courage to sleep in the water. This all brought back memories of my first afternoon with Nellie, watching her struggle in her aquarium in the yard. It wasn't until the third day that he rose to the surface, but that may have given him what he wanted. It was not afraid of people like Nellie No. 1. It had traveled the whole world, and I remembered my ridiculous self. I was just stuck in the air and scared. But Nellie will break out of the water, breaking through this already rancid layer of water.

I wanted to go. I shouted for the shore of the world. And at that moment, I finally woke up.

The papers said they found me by the railway tracks, lying on the ground with a rotten tree trunk, fainting in this indifferent city. I was brought back to town, me and my roots.

I returned to the abandoned yard. The trunk was there. Surely my sister had put it there, but Nellie had lost its leaves, lost its life, and withered into the brilliant spring.

I threw the tree into the sea, perhaps it will be of use in due time. At least, it's swimming.