“Reading your stories is like drinking a glass of plain water. No any taste.” The verdict came from my teacher in Chinese literature class, short and firmly. It was hurt, but was very true, that I had to admit. I was 14 years old then and had always wished to be as good at writing as some of my classmates were. More time and effort had been devoted to Chinese than to sciences. The outcome was still not showing promise, while two language-talented classmates, one has become a professor teaching Chinese in a prestigious university in
