It's bad

My father told me that I stole wine when I was a kid, that I often had a red face, and then beat the shit out of me. I don't remember anything about that. I'm a stupid kid who's a little late in his mind. I've had all my memories since I was eight years old. All I remember was that when I was a kid, I lived with my grandparents, who were busy killing pigs, steaming buns, grinding tofu, making rice wine at the end of every year. My favorite is my grandfather's rice wine, sweet and sweet. Every day I'm out playing crazy and I'm running home with a big bowl of rice. I also like to eat rice and make black sesame soup and sweet rice and orange soup. But now it's rare to eat rice and wine, and it's not as good as when I was a kid. My family is in Henan, close to Wuhan, so hot dry noodles also smell like my home town, because it's closer to Hubei Hyo-sage City, where rice wine is often eaten。