His name is Zhang Tiedan, a painful egg. Some people call him a good egg, some people call him a fool, and some even call him a bastard. He accidentally traveled through the egg-painful accident that unfolded in the Qinman Courtyard of Sijiu City in 1957.
I wanted to write about love, but after decades of going through it, and three hundred wrong payments, I still couldn't figure out what romance and romance are, and what heart-wrenching emotions are. Half of my life is left with wind and rain, half of my life is hurt, half a sentence of "don't hate" is half my heart, I mistook old vinegar for ink, and half of my life is written with soreness on the paper.
I wanted to write about the feelings of my family and country, and the selfless dedication and daring loyalty of my ancestors, but due to the weight of the subject matter and my shallow knowledge, it was ultimately difficult to describe the sincerity that spanned the years and to describe the glory they created with their blood.
I wanted to write about the ups and downs of modern times and the great journey of the motherland's rise from decline, but I always felt that my pen was too weak. Even though I was filled with emotion, it could not convey the tenacity and vicissitudes of those years, nor could I describe the majesty and sonorous reorganization of the mountains and rivers.
Reader comments
I originally wanted to give it five stars, but it really made my head hurt watching and listening to it in the first person.
I originally wanted to give it five stars, but it really made my head hurt watching and listening to it in the first person.
Don't write my name
Five stars, great looking!