Add Bookmark | Recommend this book | Back to the book page | My bookshelf | Mobile Reading

Free Web Novel,Novel online - All in hlnovel.com -> Prose -> Do you still remember me from that year?

Chapter 1 Do you still remember me from that year?

Previous page        Return to Catalog        Next page

    You can search "I was that year, do you still remember?" in Baidu to find the latest chapter!

    How are you?  I don't know how you are now

    That year, I still vaguely remember that the flowers were blooming in spring;

    That person still had that sweet smile in the blur;

    That injury has caused too many ripples of the years, and I can't forget it many years later.

    I didn't want to pick up the pen at first, because once the pen and ink touched the white paper, what would flow out would be thick thoughts and sentimental scenes.

    This kind of sentiment is like the soft rain on the Tianjie, like the "rain lane", "oil paper umbrella", "lilac-like" "loneliness" and "sorrow", and like "good rain knows the season, when spring happens"  "The moss marks are green on the upper level, and the grass color is green on the curtain".

    Possibly, the pure love of red sleeves is the most in line with my high-level generalization of this kind of feeling - warm, moist, and somewhat sad.

    The eyes are full of spring flowers, and the eyes are full of tender green.  What rolls in the warm air is the fragrance of flowers, and the lovely beauty with flower umbrellas.

    I like spring rain, not because of the rain, but because of the soft rain.

    The same spring rain, because of different ages, because the time of missing people is shortened or lengthened, the realm is completely different.

    ¡ª¡ªThe spring rain in childhood, shy and charming, is like a bean sprout emerging from the loose soil.

    The rain outside the window fell quietly, patteringly.  It is rainy at the end of spring, especially in the evening, and the trees, villages, and people in the evening must be thoroughly watered.

    The sky was already dark, and a few big drops of rain flew down like bullets.  The noisy calls of the spring birds were finally overwhelmed.  A few scattered "squeaks" sounded near or far, wandering in the cloudy sky for a while, and ended in silence.

    What gradually became louder was a few bean-sized raindrops making a short and crisp "crack" sound when they landed.  The raindrops seem to be quite heavy, and the drops flutter down like glass balls.  The scorching land immediately gave off a strong smell of scorched earth.

    Whenever I have free time, I hide in the small bookstore, read my books, and think about my affairs.  Today, I am trapped in the rain, tired of reading, or after getting sleepy, I have to stand in front of the window to watch the rain for a while.  At that time, a cool and almost cold wind blew from the window.

    At this time, Wanshan was wiped behind the rain and fog.  Farther away, the wind tore away a corner of the white mist, revealing several extremely high peaks in midair.  It looks like a handful of dust has been smeared on the milky white wall, ethereal, and very similar to the moon fairy hanging in the air in a landscape painting.

    ¡ª¡ªChun Yu when he was a teenager, lonely and lonely, seems to be deliberately trying to isolate a grudge, and those feelings that cannot be determined at all.  That feeling is uncertain, intangible, confusing, and indescribable.  But it has always been rooted in the heart, and it has grown unscrupulously from the bud.

    During the spring rain at that time, the air was particularly fresh, and the freshness seemed to be able to dissolve a person's bulky body, and the person floated lightly in mid-air.  The sun is particularly red, and the redness has indeed burned the clouds into flames, making the sun's sleepy face even more lovely.

    The wind gradually picked up.

    When there is more rain, the wind naturally has the courage to make noise.  It is a bewitching spirit, prompting the rain, and flying ravagingly to corners that are usually hard to reach.  Even my window sills, covered by the tall pomegranate tree, were wet.

    Half of the window lattices that have been blackened by the years have been repainted, exposing the fresh wooden muscles.  The other half is still covered in black dust, reflecting the mottled black brick wall.

    The rain shrank the originally spacious world to a narrow space that can only accommodate a small desk and a small bed.  The gray light at dusk made the low house even lower and lower.

    My heart was so stuffy and flustered, it seemed like a little white rabbit that got lost, couldn't find its way home, and felt uneasy.  (Remember the site URL: www.hlnovel.com
Didn't finish reading? Add this book to your favoritesI'm a member and bookmarked this chapterCopy the address of this book and recommend it to your friends for pointsChapter error? Click here to report