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 44 Night Blindness

Previous page        Return to Catalog        Next page

    ?

    Wave after wave of whining sounds, the air is extremely cool, and the smell of pine oil is very strong.

    The sky and the earth were spinning in the dark, and he felt his head was heavy, and the soles of his feet were extremely soft, as if his body was about to fly up and turned into a bird, leaning forward, leaning forward.

    He suddenly remembered that there was a cliff under his feet in front of him, and he instinctively leaned back, spread his arms and threw them out.  My mind was bewildered, and it suddenly became blank, and a layer of goose bumps immediately appeared on my back.

    He was also worried about falling on the gravel, because behind him were countless large and small stones, all of which were oddly shaped and twisted with sharp edges, each like a timid soldier lying on the ground, holding a sharp knife.

    His eyes began to see clearly.  Black Xing Xing withdrew, and it was dawn, he knew that he was the one who shouted just now, and he was blinded by shouting.

    He can't always rely on this to vent, after all, there is no such environment in the school, there are people everywhere, even the cold and dark remote corners are full of people, pair by pair.

    In class, black heads are lying low on the desks, and books are piled up high. Every time you straighten your waist and raise your chin, you can barely see the blackboard.

    After a day's class, high school students are not only mentally tired, but also physically tired, sore and sore. When they stretch their waists, there is a crackling sound, and their bodies are about to collapse.  Therefore, at night, it is not bad to be able to withstand physical deprivation and mental sluggishness.

    ?Lonely, tears, go with the wind

    After returning from self-study in the evening, the night is much late.

    On both sides of the road, thin iron pillars and dim street lamps stand tall, picking up people's tired eyelids and nerves, trying to cheer up.

    Against the blue and cold blue sky, it looks extraordinarily scorching.

    But it's just a small dot, like a huge match stick, standing and burning slowly.

    The sky was getting darker and darker, and the light gradually became stronger, trying to expand the territory of this light.

    The students returning to the dormitory after school, coaxing and jostling towards the dormitory area.  He looked at the crappy dark corner, on the dilapidated wall, there was a perverted tree shadow, and the street lamp beside the tree, in the dark night, tore out bunches of sticky yellow silk.

    The light bulb is just a ball of yellow silk, tangled together, a huge glowing ball of wool.

    The yellow silk, as thin as a hair, is submerged by the night before it floats far, and is sent out continuously, and then slowly disappears, so the yellow thread seems to be floating on a rolling ball, hanging on it, being rolled  The wind in the ball is blowing, shaking slowly, like a streamer deliberately hung on the air-conditioning vent.

    He bowed his head deeply, as if he was going to tuck his neck into his collar and hide his head in his jacket.

    Both hands are hanging down, one hand is holding a water glass, and the other hand is drooping straight.  Always he was alone, pushing through the crowd.  Surrounded by high walls of torrents, piercing laughter and chaotic voices hit the eardrums like cold stone hammers.

    Headache!  Every day, he was so tired that he was dizzy and swollen, his body was so weak that he couldn't breathe, his stomach was rumbling, and he was hungry again. He looked up and turned around to look at the distance.  Walking towards the dormitory, it was difficult to get out.

    Every night, I have to drag myself to chew ham sausages, and gobble up the big white steamed buns.  If the big white steamed buns were already stiff, they would try their best to close their mouths, for fear that the dregs of the steamed buns would fall down and make them feel sorry for wasting food.

    A grain of flour represents a year of hard work and sweat.  As a farmer, he cannot waste food.

    But tonight, he wants to enjoy the pleasure brought by this food, but it seems that it is not easy to achieve.

    Forget it, don't you go hungry every night?  (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