Love During the City Lockdown

I bought Ten Samples of Brocade from Zhangyue. I really like DaDa's book. When will DaDa write a new article? I'm looking forward to it.

I like "Ten Species of Brocade" written in Dada, and I'm looking forward to Dada's new work!

Come on, if you open a new article, come over and look at my brand. If you change the platform, I will go to the new platform to read your article?, Don't give up, I really like your writing style.

Baby, I love your writing style so much!!!! Especially the ancient sayings, I hope to see your new articles again!! I hope there will be another article about the life of a couple in a high-class family like "The Little Notes of a Floating Life"!

When will you be back? I really like reading your articles.

Why don't you write articles anymore?

I think the author is very suitable for writing ancient prose. Really, I have been reading it for ten years. I want to write more novels like Ten Brocades and Bright Spring Flowers. In fact, silly and sweet writing is popular in Jinjiang now. If my wife really can't write serious ancient Chinese in Jinjiang, she might consider moving to a certain place. I think my wife's ancient Chinese writing style is very suitable there.

Thank you, stay safe and healthy!

In the heart of summer The morning was stormy. The wandering clouds are like white handkerchiefs when saying goodbye, The traveling wind shakes them with both hands. The heart of countless winds Beating above the silence of our love. Orchestral and spiritual, resonating among the trees Like a language full of war and chants. The wind that carries away the dead leaves with its swift attack Let the throbbing flock of arrows wander away. The wind stirred her, in the foamless tide, In weightless matter, in tilting flames. Her thousand kisses break and sink, Beating on the door of the summer breeze. So you will hear me my words Sometimes it gets thinner Like the traces of seagulls passing by on the beach. Necklace, intoxicating clock Your hands as smooth as grapes. I saw my words fly away. They are more like yours than mine. Like ivy they creep up my old sorrow. It climbs the damp wall, This cruel game will be blamed on you. They escape from my dark void. You are full of everything, you are full of everything. In front of you, they fill the loneliness you occupy, And they are more accustomed to my sadness than you are. Now I want them to say what I want to say to you, Let you hear what I want you to hear. The miserable wind drags them as before. Sometimes the hurricane of dreams knocks them down. You hear other voices in my voice of pain. The mouth of ancient lamentation, the blood of ancient supplication. Love me, companion. Don't abandon me, follow me. Follow me, companion, in this tide of misery. But my words are stained with your love. You own everything, you own everything. For your white hands as smooth as bunches of grapes I will turn my words into an endless necklace. I remember what you looked like last summer. You are a gray beret and a still heart. In your eyes, the flames of dawn are fighting. The leaves fall into the pool of your soul. Let my arms cling like climbing plants, The leaves restrain your voice, slow and calm. My desire burns in the fire of awe. Sweet blue hyacinths wrap around my soul. I feel your eyes wandering, the autumn has gone; The gray beret, the sound of birds, like the heart of a house, My deep desire to migrate there, My thousand kisses fall, as happy as amber. The sky of solitary sail. Thousands of miles of hills: Your memory is made of light, of smoke, of ponds of still water! Beyond your eyes, the night is shining. The dry autumn leaves swirl in your soul. Leaning in the dusk, I look into your ocean-like eyes Throw my sorrowful net. My loneliness stretches endlessly in the extreme light, turning into flames, Her arms were flying all over the sky as if she was about to be drowned by a shipwreck. Over your absent eyes, I send a red signal, Your eyes are rippled, like the ocean near a lighthouse. You keep the darkness, my distant woman, Sometimes under your gaze the shores of fear emerge. Leaning in the twilight, on the sea that slaps your ocean-like eyes I cast my sorrowful net. The night birds peck at the first stars, Like my soul that loves you, shining. Night rides on the gloomy horse, Sprinkle blue spikes on the ground. White bee, you buzz in my soul and drink honey, You fly in the slow swirl of smoke. I am a self-destructive person, a word without echo, Lose everything and have everything. The last rope of the ship, my last desire to tie you tightly. You are the last rose in my barren land. Ah, you silent one! Close your deep eyes. The night drifts away there. Ah, your body is as naked as a statue of terror. Your deep eyes, where the night is flapping its wings. The arms of cold flowers, the feet and knees of roses. Your body is like a snow-white snail, The shadow butterfly flies and sleeps in your belly. Ah you silent person! This is the loneliness after you disappear. In the rain, the sea breeze is attacking the lost gulls. Running water walks barefoot through the wet streets, The leaves on the tree complained as if they were sick. White bee, even though you are gone, you still buzz in my soul, You are resurrected in time, thin and speechless. Ah, you silent person

I hope everything goes well for you and that you will be back soon.