In Tune

I cried; those few chapters had such a powerful impact. The present, which we take for granted and even grow tired of, is a future that many people will never reach. When my mother was still alive, she would occasionally tell me how difficult it was for her to have enough to eat and go to school when she was a child, because they had to cut grass and collect cow dung to earn work points to…

Therefore, life is as brilliant as a song...

Ordinary people just keep moving forward. At first, they only witness the river of lights, then they merge into it themselves and become numb, unable to see the river anymore, and finally they remember the river of lights they once knew. I love this story!

What will the future hold? What can I change while I'm alive? Amidst the flames of war, they fought for a future with limitless possibilities. In a daze, I've been busy and have my own home, but I'm drifting further and further away from my dreams. In the future, the streets will be bustling with traffic, the nights will be brightly lit, and there will be no war, only peace and tranquility.

Suddenly, I got goosebumps. The writing is concise and elegant. I came across this through a recommendation on the side of the page. What a great author! How come I couldn't find them before?

Modern history cannot be summarized in a few paragraphs in a history book. After reading some details, I feel a sense of aversion to modern history; it's too tragic and depressing. But if we don't read it, we won't know how tragic, humiliating, and great that generation truly was.

Waaaaah... Little Grass, the author of sweet romance novels, truly deserves her reputation.

So it was all just a series of intertwined dreams from the very beginning... Sigh, I thought Qingqing had really come to the modern world... I cried TT

Here's a small oversight: most revolutionary women of that era had short hair. I've seen quite a few archival photos, and you hardly ever see braids in pictures from the War of Resistance Against Japan. But it's truly amazing!

She left, and she returned. Her sacrifice, her rebirth. She is herself again.