It unfolds in the first person! ! ! A memoir-like form
In Nanjing in 1912, Zhou Xian fell into the old times. With him who is one year older, our feelings are hidden in the years. He went to the battlefield in 1931 and died in Songhu in 1937; in the same year, his parents died in Nanjing. She held a pen as a note, and her prediction was regarded as nonsense. In 1944, it withered before victory. After waking up from the dream in class, she walked towards the Martyrs Cemetery, old traces in the wind.
"Cheng Jiashu, the dream is not a dream, what can I do?"
In the long river of history, you and I are helpless. "
