Rain

It rained for the first time in Mengcheng. At dinner, the rain rested, and the air was cold and awe-inspiring, which made people’s nervous nerves relax immediately. I remembered Wang Wei’s poem: the weather is late in autumn after the new rain in the empty mountain. It was summer, and such a sudden heavy rain reminded people of such verses with refreshing coolness. I walked out of the door. The Moonlight flows abruptly in this extraordinarily quiet village. There was a sound of frogs, and there was sparkling water shining on the fields of Voo wild field. Everything inevitably made people remember old people, so I took out my mobile phone and sent a text message. The moon is really big after rain. The air is also fresh, but the power went out. After a while, I received a text message, apparently she didn’t know my identity. You is? She said. Flowers! I reply past. After that, we talked a little more and became silent with each other. The hometown in the old days was Jiangxi. I forgot how we got to know each other at the beginning. After all, it was because of words that her wonderful writing was made. We have never seen each other, but we simply live in our own world. But the impression she gave me was gentle, and she was able to write words with a mouth and a heart. I believe she can balance family chores with words with ease. At the same time, he is a good wife and mother. The old words are full of Zen, fresh and refined, and sometimes there is a strong smell of fireworks. Reading her words was like looking through black and white photos one after another. Those fragmentary memories came to her, with a heavy breath of life, and also like an old song with slow rhythm! When reading the old “father”, I suddenly associated with Lin Haiyin’s “old story of South City”. Their colors are so consistent and gray, and their voices are devious. There are few ups and downs in martial arts novels. However, with the narration of memory, it can’t help moving people. The old words gave me such an image. On such a night, on this deserted path, I thought while walking. The trail under my feet has been built for two years. From west to east, it leads to the vast field. At midnight, villagers working in the fields returned home in twos and threes. I walked on the long road alone, feeling very disappointed. There was a gust of cool breeze blowing towards me. A person walked on this long road for a long time, feeling cold. So, I turned around and went back. When I returned to the house, it was dark. I blackened the mosquito incense and crawled to the bed. It was quiet around. Sometimes, a few gray clouds floated around the moon. The branches of birch trees have obviously extended to the front of the window not far away. After the Rain wetted the leaves, they felt extremely spirited. I stared blankly at all this outside the window, just like a dream. After a while, the sky began to rain again. The ticking rain brought people into another layer of delusion. When I was young, I was unambitious and wasted all day in the state of epilepsy. The time at that time may be as bright and ethereal as the moonlight before the rain, but it is beyond reach. Time flies. In a flash, so many years passed quietly. At this moment, galloping past, a kind of pain arises in my heart. As if the prisoner was put on the guillotine, I regret it. What did I catch? Twenty-two years old. In the dark, I questioned myself sadly. At that time, except for the heavy breath, there was only endless silence in the empty room. Lu Xun once said: If you don’t break out in silence, you will perish in silence. I think I am standing on the edge of extinction. The rain is getting bigger and bigger, and the rain is pouring like pouring. I recalled Song Jiang Jie’s famous Yu Meiren. The young man listened to the red candle on the upstairs of the Rain Pavilion. Prime rain guest boat in jiang kuo cloud low broken goose call Creek Wind. Now hearing the joys and sorrows under the stove of monk Yu, he was always Ruthless. He divided his life into three stages. But at this time, I had his current mentality and another kind of passion that the old man talked about the youth crazily. It was in this complex state of mind that let me steal a floating life for half a day and imagine the purity of remaining Lotus and listening to the rain in this calm night. A gust of wind blew from the window, carrying the wet rain. This is not a stable wind! How much passion it has made me awake from endless delusion. How much it looks like me, and my heart is full of anxiety and throbbing in youth. This rainy night makes my heart clear. Like (prose editor: dancing alone with rain) the snow in spring Spring elimination snow, multi-the yao nian, unspoken. Reading from afar, it is just above that snowfield. 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