Love
by Li Yi
About This Novel
The autumn air is overflowing, and autumn is getting colder. As a reminder of autumn, Jing Luye and everyone have added sweaters. Ren Qing's reaction was that he had gone through in his mind "Autumn has been sad and lonely since ancient times, I say autumn is better than spring", and "I know the feeling of sadness when I am old, but I say it is a cool autumn"... The cold air invaded, and the cold air only recognized flesh and blood, not Ren Qing. While Ren Qing was lecturing, he would cough a lot from time to time. He made an impromptu decision to teach the last unit of the textbook, "When Will the Bright Moon Come?" He arranged classes with his math teacher, and the two classes were taught in one classroom. Students have become immune to his actions. Moreover, he believed that he also said on the podium: Chinese language, in the final analysis, is nothing more than two words: reading and writing. Reading is input, and reading is breaking through the limitations of time, space and oneself, absorbing and experiencing the civilization accumulated at home and abroad to the maximum extent; writing is output, expressing inner thoughts and emotions.
What Readers Think
Rating
Community(0)
Official(2)Scraped 11d ago
good story
Such a pure story, pure people, and pure love. Good, beautiful, I still have more to say.
good. Just like the article.
Good. Just like the article.
Rating
Community(0)
Official(2)Scraped 11d ago
good story
Such a pure story, pure people, and pure love. Good, beautiful, I still have more to say.
good. Just like the article.
Good. Just like the article.
Featured in 3 Booklists
Official(3)
To be honest, the story is very thin. It's not as touching as I thought it would be. I kept waiting for the final climax, and as a result, the story ended inexplicably. . . But I was still moved by a plot, although this plot appeared in "Women in the Cubicle". When Cheng Ruimin mentioned Sun Jiayu, who had terminal cancer, he said, "He never mentioned his girlfriend's name. Only one day he suddenly said to me: 'Xiao Yao, if I am selfish...
But whenever night falls, My thoughts always return to that distant evening,
The ink stains the paper and condenses on the tip of the pen That I never forget
