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After the snow melts

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    ?

    The snow has melted.

    Blizzard only fell for one day.  Seeming to be tired, he moved elsewhere.

    The sun comes out.  Dazzling brilliance.  Mottled shadows.  The wind blows away the snow that has fallen on the trees.  Nothing was left.  The vast expanse of whiteness turned into a pool of terrifying black water stains in an instant.

    The scenery along the way has lost a layer of Chinese clothing and restored its original appearance.  Inexplicably sad.

    A flash in the pan.

    Do you like white?

    like.  I answer.

    But none of my clothes are white.  I also don't like gray hair.

    Pretend to be old.  In fact, it's just a naive age of 28 years old.

    What do you think about the most every day.

    Talking about ideals is too extravagant.  Talk about life and pretend to be elegant.  Or talk about the most practical things.

    money.

    Being indifferent to fame and fortune has not yet reached such a high level.

    Therefore, working hard like an ox and a horse is just in exchange for the simplest basic necessities of life.

    Reading so many books is just to make myself look less ignorant.

    Tried to find a job I liked.

    For example, a freelance writer for a website.

    ? Submit your resume.  The answer was all refusal.

    In addition to my love of writing, I have no other hobbies.  He was praised as a child with high savvy since he was a child.  There is no other attempt except to play to one's strengths.

    When I was in elementary school, there was a composition class.  The teacher read a sample essay excerpted from the composition book.  Let's imitate and write.

    I don't want to follow the rules.  So, start from scratch according to your own ideas.

    Just finished writing.  I was called by the teacher and stood up to read.

    My Mandarin is not good.

    And very shy.  I read it half way through.  Was interrupted abruptly by the teacher.  Looking at her kind face, I thought she would praise my innovation.  In the end, she said to me sternly, didn't you listen to the model essay I just read.  Why not write it according to the model text?

    Perhaps, I have been rebellious since I was a child.

    third grade.  The teacher assigned a composition.  It seems to be writing about my deskmate.

    I also didn't play the cards as usual.  Wrote a fictional narrative novel.

    At that time, I longed for my deskmate to be a person who knew both astronomy and geography.

    The teacher commented after the composition, with a very high imagination.  It's a pity it's fake.  Children who lie are not good.

    Lying?

    The teacher defined my composition as full of lies.  But it didn't dampen my resolve to keep going.

    13 years old.  I started trying to write short stories.

    A powerful and unconstrained style.

    I don't know what love and marriage are.  responsibility.  The heart desires dark things more.  Like, if a guy is bad enough to wear a killer haircut.  don't like to study.  It doesn't matter what it does.  People are very smart.  It was the type we liked at that time.  The aesthetics at that time were really embarrassing.

    Before elementary school.  All the books I read were brought back from my grandfather¡¯s house.  Usually (Story Club), (Guwen Guanzhi), (Novel Monthly) There are many places that I can't understand.  Just pick up what you like.  Grandpa sometimes sees a good article and recommends it to his mother.  When I stood by and heard it, I would secretly look for it.

    ? Swallow jujube muddy.  It doesn't make any sense at all.

    Before elementary school, I did not show any talent for literature.  The composition I write is always criticized by the teacher for too many "lies".

    I don't study hard either.  I have the idea of ??wanting to take the first place.  Passed elementary school normally.  Unexpectedly, the graduation exam for the fifth grade of elementary school made me the fifth in the whole school.

    God always surprises me unexpectedly.

    The first time I came into contact with yellow books was in the fourth grade of elementary school.

    that day.  Mom is not at home.  I play with a playmate at home.  I accidentally found a book in my mother's bedroom cupboard.

    I still remember that the cover of the book was a naked woman.  Looking at the camera with ambiguous eyes.

    We don't know what book this is.  Just feel curious.  Also feel ashamed.

    Before I opened the book, I was discovered by my aunt who came to my house.  She saw the cover of the book.

    Then ordered us to put the book down.

    I did not listen to her.  Pick up the book and run away.  The companion was terrified.  She stayed where she was at a loss.

    My aunt was chasing after me.  Keep shouting, you can't read that book.  I will tell your mother

    Mom heard the news and came.  Flanking forward and backward.  I can't move an inch.

    Had to stop.  gulp gulp? Gasp.

    Auntie said, you run, I think you still runyou are too old to learn well

    Take that book from me and give it to Mom.

    "Don't let children see such books in the future. It will teach children badly"

    After this happened.  There is no such book in the family anymore.  For this reason, I have searched through boxes and cabinets many times to find that book.  Since I haven't seen it, I want to know what's inside.

    It wasn't until I gradually understood the world of adults that I realized it was a pornographic book.

    When I was in junior high school.  Guo Jingming, Han Han began to rise.  I often put their books under the textbook and read them secretly.

    But the person I admire most is Guo Jingming.  His melancholy and sadness moved me.  This is also my original intention to write something in the first place.

    Writing is sometimes a kind of confession.

    For a while, I fell in love with the Internet writer Baby Anne.  Desperately imitating her writing style.  Imagine being as comfortable with the manipulation of words as she is.  But the result is often the opposite.

    I am neither smart nor beautiful.  Only by giving full play to your strengths and persevering to the end can you live a life without regrets.

    The snow melted.  Is it the tears of sad parting, or will it turn into the rain of the next season?

    Running from the distant sky.  It's too late to gaze at the bright stars in the world.  Shattered by the sun's light in blurred light and shadow.

    They also tried hard to fly higher.

    Desperately, desperately, still can't escape the pursuit of fate.

    Be like snowflakes.

    Even if it is a short life, we must do our best.

    After the snow melts.

    The rest of the earth is more comfortable to breathe.  We can smell the intoxicating fragrance in the air.

    That is the smell of the world left behind by snowflakes.

    It tells you that winter is about to pass and spring is coming (Remember this site URL: www.hlnovel.com
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