My name is Meng Jian, not the "Jian" in Ban Gu's Chinese character Meng Jian, but the "Jian" in the mountain stream. My deskmate who has a tiankeng in mind said: "Jian is a small ditch in the mountains." To be able to give such a spiritual and accurate explanation, this weirdo really worked hard.
My high school days were spent wasting time in conic sections, Kepler's three laws, but there was also a beating heart, and there was also a vague but pure admiration.
Many of these things have become regrets, but I won't regret it if I open the lid and win a prize again. This is the best youth I can meet, and I have the best people.
I'm Meng Jian. According to my stupid deskmate, I can't write any masterpieces compared to Ban Gu who wrote "The Book of Han", but I also want to mention something to record their most dazzling appearance in my mind.
What is youth?
It was the obscure but passionate admiration of a young man. It was Zhou Liu who bought a cup of brown sugar taro balls and waited for her downstairs in Mi Chu's dormitory. Mi Chu combed his hair over and over again, tied it into a seemingly casual twintail, and pretended to be cold and distant from him when he went downstairs. He received a smile with red eyes and said, "You look like a village girl today."
The sun accidentally fell in the classroom, and it happened to shine on the profile of my deskmate who was lecturing me. It was Ye Min's heartless smile, every humorous joke, every bold attempt, a choice that he would not regret.
It's sharing, it's joy, it's friction, and the chicks in the ivory tower have their own thoughts.
Youth is a monument of memory, and the four words written on it are "no regrets."
Purpose: Tribute to youth