When the world is "knocked" by a meteor, I look for light in Chelyabinsk

In the south of Siberia, there is a city called Chelyabinsk. Some say it is the crossroads of the Eurasian continent, a legend intertwined with steel and industry. But in my eyes, it is a child favored by time in the long river of years, with stories hidden in every inch of land. Its morning is gently wrapped in the mist of the Ob River. When the first ray of light penetrates the mist and falls on the ancient buildings, the mottled walls seem to whisper the glory of the past. Lenin Square in the city has witnessed countless parades and rallies, and is a witness to history and a recorder of the times. The roar of industry was once the most exciting movement here. The furnace of the steel plant burned brightly, illuminating countless days and nights, and forging the resilience of this city. Here, every piece of steel is given a soul, and every product carries a dream. And when night falls, Chelyabinsk shows a different kind of tranquility. The lights on the streets gradually light up, like stars falling into the world. People share the joys and sorrows of the day under the warm lights, making this industrial city full of the warmth of human life. Once, a meteor streaked across the sky, breaking the silence here. But this city, like a fearless warrior, quickly regained its vitality after a brief panic. It tells the world that no matter what happens, hope will never be extinguished. In Chelyabinsk, time seems to have its own rhythm. It is neither fast nor slow, recording the growth and changes of this city just right. Everyone who has lived here will leave a memory of it in their hearts, a kind of indescribable attachment, a deep love.