I'm blind. Today, from the perspective of a modern charlatan, I will tell you a little bit about "Dream of Red Mansions", which is an eternal masterpiece - when you write it, you must have a little cumin flavor from the Lu Chuan stall. It is enough to be charlatan, and it is full of flavor.
Think about it, a blind loser squatting in front of a night market stall, rubbing his waist with his left hand, touching the wine bottle with his right hand, and smacking the words "Dream of Red Mansions" in his mouth. Is this scene enough fireworks?
Someone asked me, why after so many years, I still can't forget your "Dream of Red Mansions"? Hey, no matter how beautiful the spring breeze is, can it have the "pretentious and energetic" literary talent you have in your words? Whether it's because I'm obsessed or not, I just want to catch the passing wind and turn the falling peach blossoms into nothing more than a fluttering moth - oh no, it's a butterfly. If I just lie down in "The Song of Burial Flowers", it will be a blessing to Sister Lin.
Looking back suddenly, the thoughts hidden in "Fu Rong's Daughter" are still squatting in the dim fireworks, just like the charcoal fire left after the Lu Chuan stall is closed, silently waiting for someone to add more firewood.
There is a vast sea of books in the world, but I love yours the most - Camel Bell under the sunset in the desert? Is that the "distant place" you wrote about; the tune of playing the pipa in the old castle? That's the "worry" you hide. In my heart, you are the most important person. I will cry for you today (like losing the last skewer of barbecue tendons), and be silly and happy for you tomorrow (like drinking free beer). All the arrogance of this life will be left here with you.
With a book in hand, he patted the table and asked: Who in the world is the swan song? That has to be you. Even the sesame seeds that fall out when skewering can mix with the smoke of fireworks in your words to create a fragrance!
