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The blend of poetry and song, the deepest cry of the soul

Strange, some positive, some negative, real

Ye Manyu thought that the unexpected encounter was just a passing encounter. But fate refused to let her go - the boy who almost hit her on his bicycle became her classmate after she transferred to another school. Nie Huaiyu didn't expect to meet her on the way to school. The moment the girl who was almost hit by him raised her head, he was stunned - it was her. The little girl who gave him a candy five years ago and asked him to stop crying. He thought he would never see her again in this life. But here she is. In his classroom, within his reach. Later, with red eyes, he said, "I don't have a home anymore." She said softly: "It's okay, it will happen. I'll be with you." Later, lying on the hospital bed, she weakly stretched out her hand and touched the boy whose heart and eyes were full of her. She tried her best to put on a smile, and her voice was so light that it seemed like it was about to break away: "I'm sorry... Manman missed the appointment again." When Nie Huaiyu was thirty-five years old, he stood in front of her tombstone and reached out to touch the cold stone surface. The wind blew over, as if someone's hand was gently touching his face.

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Milk tea, desserts, my little cutie, that was the first time I saw him. If you like it, say it out and be brave enough to pursue it. (Little sweet article, don't worry, sweet)

Use faint ink to write about the dull pain in the world, and use clear characters to write about the silence of half a lifetime. There is no roar, only dull sadness, quietly lingering in daily life. Each article is short and each sentence touches the heart. To those who quietly collapse and bear everything alone.

When innocence meets conspiracy, when love intertwines with deception, who can protect faith in the darkness and stick to the true heart amid lies? Zhao Jiaer, a sophomore student in the College of Agriculture with extremely strong professional skills, was selected to participate in the national highly confidential [Monthly Pei Planting] scientific research project because of his excellent knowledge. Because of fate, the handsome and gentle senior Tan Zhili, who comes from a distinguished family, also launched a passionate pursuit of herself. Love, studies, of course Zhao Jiaer wants them all. But she didn't know that the superficially affectionate senior's approach had a purpose from the beginning.

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When a mess of bones and rusted tools spanning the Yuan, Ming and Qing dynasties were unearthed from the depths of the dry well in Yangfangbao, Xuanhua, Hebei Province, the tip of the iceberg suddenly emerged from a land that had been covered up by droughts and legends for seven hundred years. The investigation team moved forward in the fog: rigorous archaeologists, local chroniclers who are familiar with the context, and calm geological engineers. What they faced was the "zodiac picture" on the mountain wall that looked like a book from heaven, the "Fire Cave" that exuded warmth in winter, and the ancient motto of "guarding the mausoleum" that the villagers had passed down from generation to generation but had changed beyond recognition. All clues point to a grand truth that has been forgotten by history - this is not an imperial mausoleum, but a huge official stone quarry set up for the construction of the capital during the Mongolian and Yuan Dynasties; there are no ghosts, only hidden engineering hazards deeply rooted in the ground and simple monitoring that spans dynasties; there are no treasure legends, only the blood and tears of labor locked by "craftsmen", and the "Changyukou" battle that broke out to compete for this strategic location, with mountains of corpses and seas of blood. "The Mysterious Xuanhua Yangfang Fort" peels off the magnificent shell of the legend and restores the hard texture of history with cold brushstrokes. This is a story about stones, blood and watch, a profound inquiry into how historical memory is formed, distorted and reconstructed. When modern technology illuminates the deep underground scene, and when the nameless people underground are finally included in the time genealogy, what we find is a cold bronze mirror that reflects the power and cost of human engineering. The mountain is silent, but the castle remains the same. Underneath the mystery is a reality that is far heavier than the legend.

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Introduction: None.

Poems for ordinary people.

You know, I don't dream about him...

A good girl vs a loaded man

Some people are so close yet so far away. There are some distances that you will be happy when you cross them. There are some distances that you will realize only after you cross them. The reason why the distance is a distance is because it can never be crossed. The distance between near and far is geography, psychology, space, and time. It is you and me. It is the just right distance between us. If you take a step closer, you will disappear, and if you take a step further, you will forget it, so so be it. Near, far, not too far, not too close, just enough for me to miss you all my life, some distance, just right, just enough to miss, just enough to miss, just enough to remember you for a lifetime. All the emotions in my memory are contained in these stories.

It's a short story that everyone can enjoy watching!

The world is a trick, but there is no need to be sad about it; my poems have no rhythm, no wind and rain, they are complicated and complicated, like lonely stars in the sky, clinging to each other.

The fact that I like him is like a flower that cannot be hidden in spring. It has long been seen by those around me. My friends always joke, "His eyes are shining when you look at him." But only I know how much careful testing is hidden in this light.

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After she was abandoned by that cruel man, as time went by, she gained the most sincere affection from the cruel man's brother. In reality, she is lucky!

Life essays, don't comment if you don't like them. Hope to get suggestions for modifications

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The country is destroyed and the family is destroyed, death betrays, dreams and reality

"Monk, wouldn't you be my husband? Why are you running away?" I rested my chin on the man's shoulder and looked at him with a smile. The man closed his eyes and shook his shoulders, "Girl, please respect yourself." "Self-respect?" I sneered and raised my hand to scratch the man's bare back. "You broke off the engagement, broke the contract, came to this barren mountain to become a monk, and made me lose face. What do you mean to me about self-respect? Now that I'm here, why don't you dare to open your eyes and look at me?" The man was silent, and I turned my head and rubbed his neck affectionately. My appearance is extremely beautiful, and I have been praised by people since I was a child. Now that I am so charming, I don't believe that this man is Liu Xiahui who is still pregnant. "Tang Yu'er, stop torturing him, I am Chen Zhan, and I am the one who regretted your marriage and broke the marriage!" I turned around following the sound, and my expression was blank for a moment. The Chen family said that the most beautiful monk in the temple is my fiancé. The monk standing at the door and glaring at me looked a little apologetic, not as handsome as the monk beside me.

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Lin Mo and Mo Chen Roof met Unexpectedly, he was hunted down

_(:з　∠)_A boring story that came to mind when I was fishing at work. . Ps. This story is purely a fiction of fishing or dreaming. Any similarities may be purely coincidental.

After spring, summer, autumn and winter, I crossed ravines and crossed mountains, my back soaked with sweat. Sadness, bitterness and desolation, everything is like flowers, and I am still lingering among the flowers. You are on the horizon, and I am among the flowers, looking at the rain-soaked south of the border.

"Childhood Time Collection" is a collection of warm short stories with childhood memories as the core. The book contains thirty independent and connected short stories. With gentle and delicate writing, it looks back at the simplest, most healing and most unforgettable childhood daily life in the old days. The story focuses on an old well, a paper plane, a string of locust flowers, a firefly, a cattail fan, a marble... Those tiny moments that have been forgotten by the years were once the joy of our entire world. There are no ups and downs of the plot in the book, only the fireworks of the country alleys, the warmth of family companionship, and the purity of companionship. It picks up the childhood memories shared by a generation one by one, allowing every reader to return to the carefree youth time with the chirping of cicadas, the gentle evening breeze, and the carefree youth in the text. This is not only a book for children, but also a spiritual comfort for adults. It tells us that childhood is never far away, and those simple joys and pure beauty will always be hidden deep in our memories, giving us warmth and strength when we are tired and confused. I hope that everyone who opens this book will be able to meet their childhood self in the words. After all the things in the world, they still cherish their innocence, and after passing through the years, they are still bright.

Many years later, in the corridor of the provincial hospital that smelled of disinfectant, I met Song Ci again. He looked at me, much more mature, with the calmness of an adult between his brows and eyes. "It's raining outside," he asked, "Did you bring an umbrella?" It suddenly occurred to me that our stories always seem to be related to rain.

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My name is Tianxin, a medical student who has not yet graduated. At the beginning of 2020, the epidemic struck Wuhan. Without telling my family, I resolutely went to the front line to fight the epidemic. I'm not a hero, I'm just a medical student who can't back down in times of crisis. In the cabin, the protective clothing was airtight and the goggles were filled with water vapor. Fatigue and fear accompanied them day and night. But seeing the patients' eyes looking forward to life, I told myself that I must hold on. Here, I met Li Nanmu. He was gentle and firm, silently supporting me when I was about to collapse, and softly comforting me when I secretly cried. We can't see each other's faces clearly, but we can feel the courage to live in the hands we hold tightly. We agreed that when the epidemic is over, we will go to see Wuhan University Sakura, practice medicine together, and stay together for the rest of our lives. That was my only light in the cold winter. I treated every patient with my heart and cherished every moment with him. I wrote this memoir because I was afraid that it would be too late to say goodbye properly. In the end, I failed to wait until spring, failed to fulfill my promise with Nanmu, and failed to return to my parents. If there is an afterlife, I would still like to learn medicine to save people, and I would still like to meet Li Nanmu. This book is dedicated to my parents, to forgive their daughter for leaving without saying goodbye; to Nanmu, to remember that there was a girl named Tianxin who loved you deeply and protected this city in the coldest winter. My name is Tianxin. I once went against the grain for my life and was moved by your heart. The spring breeze will remember that there was once a glimmer of light in Jiangcheng, which shined through and stayed in the wind and snow forever.

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In the autumn of 1948, Shanghai was in a precarious state. Shen Mo, director of the Special Operations Division of the Secrecy Bureau, was hit in the head by a mysterious silver pocket watch when he was tasked with hunting down an underground member of the Chinese Communist Party code-named "Skylark". When he woke up, he found that he was back three days ago. At first, Shen Mo thought it was memory confusion or a dream. But when he accurately predicts seven events that will happen over the next three days-including what a co-worker ordered for breakfast, an unexpected rain shower, and even an attempted assassination-he's finally convinced he's trapped in a time loop.

Everyone is writing about traveling through ancient times, about emperors loving each other, and fighting against female protagonists. Everyone only cares about the heroines with a halo. In fact, every concubine in those deep palaces has his or her own unknown story. Before the mulberry leaves fall, their leaves are as bright as silk. Come on! No mulberries to eat. Come on! No time to hang out with scholars. It can still be said that scholars are delayed. A woman's procrastination cannot be explained. The mulberry trees have fallen, and they have turned yellow and fallen. Self-imposed, poor at the age of three. The water in Qishui is flowing, and the curtains and clothes are gradually falling. Women are also unhappy, and scholars behave differently. Scholars are also extremely ignorant, but only have two or three virtues. --The Book of Songs, Meng

In the silence of heaven and earth, who is whispering?

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One chapter and one song tells the story of Sha Xiaoxiao's bloody life and the people around him. Different people have different life trajectories and stories, such as the grudges that can't be let go, the unrepentant love, the regretful past, the loss of people who regret and never forget, and the path that can never be taken back. Note: (All the lyrics in this book are written by the author himself. They are not as good as other professional ones. Please be gentle)

In the troubled times, Cao Mengde went from a young boy to a powerful man in charge of the north. He and Yuan Shao were once young confidants, and they talked about wine in the world. However, due to different ways, they met in battle in Guandu, and their old friendship was shattered. He welcomed the Han Dynasty and presented the emperor in danger, held the emperor in his arms and commanded the princes. The king and his ministers respected and guarded each other. A single edict hid all the power of the world. The tiger generals in the tent follow him, Xiahou Dun is loyal and brave, and follows him in life and death; Xu Chuchi bravely protects the Lord, never leaving, and is his sharpest sword and most stable shield. And that little dog named Maizi was the only gentle person in his half-life who was not involved in political intrigues or concerned about victory or defeat. The world calls him a traitor and calls him a usurper, but only he knows it. In this world, we have to fight for each other, we have to defend our country, we have to fight with old friends, we have to balance the monarch and his ministers, we have to protect our brothers, and even a puppy has to be properly cared for. I would rather betray others than guard the mountains and rivers in my heart; I will always be brave and alone in my life.

Feel the unique romance I bring to you in Liancheng

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An address, a family, in the world and in the soul. Time is a little kid that urges people on the road. A family on the road hastily decides on every step they take, and gradually the family becomes separated; but there is an invisible force that brings the family back together again; a bridge between the underworld and the world is built, and that address is just a ruin of the passage of time, and it is the place where the family's story begins. Ordinary things are done in an ordinary way, and ordinary days pass in an ordinary way. Time, a little kid, adds years as a catalyst. From then on, the days accumulated in every moment have a weight that cannot be underestimated, becoming a series of connected fleeting flashes of light, sealed in the memory of this family.

This collection of poems is written in nostalgia for a loved one who was once engaged but was separated due to the epidemic. It is all laid out with literary imagination. The collection contains lyrical ancient and modern prose, which are only intended to express one's mood and record a deep feeling. He writes about human love with abstract brushwork and mythical imagery, and uses the rhyme of ancient poetry to express the infatuation of today's world, telling the story of a deep and unforgettable love.

The rural memories, family memories and childhood songs of the generation born in the 1980s, as well as the unique customs and folk customs of southern Fujian, are a door to memory.

On a late autumn night, something happened to the queen. When I left Zhonggong two hours ago, she was still fine. Someone told the emperor that the problem lay in the last medicine the queen drank. But the palace maid in charge of decoction has disappeared. And in the end, I was the one who tested the medicine for the Queen.

Not understanding the ways of the world is the greatest "luck" in my sales journey. I didn't graduate from junior high school and was introverted and had low self-esteem. I went from being a front-line salesperson with a monthly salary of 3,000 yuan and on the verge of being fired, to a vice president with an annual salary of one million yuan. I didn't learn to be tactful, but I just realized that top sales are not about eloquence, but about deep insight and irreplaceable trust. I used my "flaws" - introversion, practicality, poor speech - to temper them into the sharpest weapons: In a desperate situation, because of his honesty before giving up, he was retained by the customer with an order, and he understood that "sincerity is a surefire weapon". As we grow, we use the most stupid "digitization" and in-depth listening to build a replicable "stupid kung fu" system. When managing, lead a team that is more extroverted than yourself to complete the transformation from "business leader" to "system builder". At the high level, the "real" philosophy is used to handle brand crises, integrate teams, and verify its power at the strategic level. This is not a fictional article, it is an "introvert's survival guide" that I have honed over 20 years of hard work. I will tell you: How to turn character weaknesses into a professional "moat". How to use "preparation" and "listening" to build a more persuasive voice than eloquence. How to evolve from an executor to a thinker, connector and strategic coordinator. Introversion is my moat, and it is really my trump card. I have walked the road. Your map is right here.