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Although the town is small, it also has a complete collection of Five Elements and Eight Novels. Of course, there are indispensable writers of novels, and Zhou Min is one of them. Zhou Min was not very talented and well-known, and at best he could only coax the people of the small town, but those young people who were full of literary dreams still had to respectfully call him "Teacher Zhou" when they saw him. Zhou Min was also very satisfied, because it was a pleasant thing to have someone respect him. Zhou Min began writing novels in the early 1980s. At that time, the novel craze was sweeping the country. He tried his best and wrote dozens of short and medium-length stories about his transfer to the countryside and after entering the factory. He actually achieved success. He published a novel collection "Purple Mist" and successfully joined the Provincial Writers Association.

A unique song of "Beijing Drifting", a patchwork of traces of the times, and indescribable life experiences from generation to generation are gathered into this novel of more than 400,000 words. Famous female writer Lin Bai. In the 1990s, "One Man's War" left a strong impression on the world and was considered an important representative of "personalized writing" and "female writing". Now, with a broader structure and a more unique perspective, she vividly and vividly tells the ups and downs and spiritual growth of two generations of women with different knowledge levels from the south to Beijing. Around them, she describes the ups and downs of all kinds of people under the impact of the tide of social change, showing China's social changes for more than half a century and recording an era. It should be said that this was an important breakthrough in Lin Bai's literary creation. The famous French painter Henri Rousseau, known as the "father of the Naïve School in the 20th century," won Picasso's praise for his clear and powerful poetic painting style. Lin Bai also felt the resonance of his "spiritual blood". Her story also surged and sublimated in pure and simple emotions, gaining the artistic charm of still water and deep flow. Some literary critics said that this novel "presents a vast and undulating inner forest" through the experience of the heroine Hai Hong. "Many details are as full and round as pearls, full of sincere and moving power"... The language of "Ci from the North" is still "free and enchanting", but it is no longer just a writing of "female experience". Lin Bai penetrates history with characters with more contemporary and spiritual power, entering into the inner world of more people, showing deeper and more complex realistic feelings, and adding new characters and excitement to the literary gallery. As she herself said: In my literary experience, "Words from the North" is a novel with concluding significance.

Song Bingcai said that it was indeed Jin Fang who donated 200,000 yuan. She actually didn't have much money, but after hearing me tell you that you were raising money for water reform, she kept it in mind. Later, after she settled a business loan of 200,000 yuan, she immediately gave it all to me, asking me to donate it to the village in my own name, and repeatedly asked me not to tell the truth. You know, Jin Fang does this, of course, for the fellow villagers, but more importantly, to help you and support you. Also, it was actually Jin Fang who proposed that you come to our company for development and begged me to do so. Jin Fang has been loving you, thinking about you, and trying her best to help you.

Since January 2003, ten handmade "diaries" have been mailed back and forth between China and Sweden. These books were jointly produced by five Chinese and five Swedish female artists. Each time the "diaries" arrived, the artists were free to choose the ones they liked, add sketches, photos or text to them, and then send them back, which lasted throughout 2003. "Diaries" have different shapes and contents depending on which artist is working on them.

This man is careful but not young, he is sensible and has good intentions. Geng Nian thought. I can't fall, that's why I can't fall! He thought. I don't want Yuan Peng to be my son, I want to do something big. Everyone should have a bright face, so I want to do something big for this. In Geng Nian, the darkness was no longer in his eyes. He gritted his teeth, tightened his belt again and again and pushed forward. They walked on the grass for six days and six nights, and finally came to a place called Banyou.

It is a masterpiece that reflects the great changes in Hakka culture and history with its magnificent story and ingenious design.

On the desk, there is a piece of six-foot rice paper, with smoke and clouds brewing and green peaks emerging. A small regular script brush with fine brush is placed on the edge of the ink plate. Next to the ink plate, there is a wine bottle with remaining wine. Liangjun looked at the ink paintings on the rice paper. He never talked about painting with his father, not even a word. The same goes for Dongfang Wuji. He never asks about his son's work, whether it's easy, tiring, satisfying, or suffocating. Dongfang Wuji drinks wine slowly, one sip, one sip, pouring it lightly and savoring it carefully. Liang Jun sat next to his father. Finally, Dongfang Wuji finished drinking the wine, his face was slightly tipsy and his eyes were blurry. At this time, Liangjun stood up, went out, and closed the door.

My dad said: "You are a worthless thing, have you learned how to pick up rags? How can the best woman be so shameless as to make fun of others? Think about how disgusting that is! If you want to find a woman like this, you might as well be a bachelor. If you don't break up with her, don't come back to this house!" My dad and I put down the phone almost at the same time. I took a deep breath of the city air, and then I realized that the city air was very choking, stinging my throat like broken glass. I looked back for Ye Hongyan, she had already disappeared into the night of the city.

The next morning, I was too noisy by the sound of firecrackers to write, so I went to the balcony to take a look and found that there were many cars and bulldozers parked on the wasteland next to our community... I quickly ran downstairs and ran to my father's buckwheat field in one breath. Under the sun, there were bees and butterflies in those brilliant little white flowers. The flowers were flying, and I stretched out my hands to block the bulldozers that were heading towards the buckwheat flowers. I watched the white-headed reeds floating in the sun fall down one after another, and I heard the roar of the machines getting closer and closer to me... I was finally persuaded to step aside, because this land had been sold long ago and was to be developed into a residential area...

A murder notice appeared in the village. The person who posted the notice was Qiu Dasheng. His elder brother Qiu Baozeng lent him 500 yuan. It has not been paid back for 17 years. Qiu Dasheng had enough of the pain of demanding debts. The wife ran away with someone. The son also ran away from home. To this end. He posted a notice. On behalf of the Supreme People's Court, Qiu Baozeng and his son were sentenced to death. This night. Qiu Dasheng embarked on the road to kill Qiu Baozeng and his son...

I am almost 50 years old, my face is as wrinkled as a ginger bowl, my hair is like chopped cotton gauze, my eyelids are always covering my eyeballs like rags, and my three teeth are like vegetables that have been shoveled by a hoe, wobbling and trying to fall over. I will sleep with the King of Hell at any time any day. Even if I am missed by the father of hell, will it be interesting to live another 10 or 20 years? The government despises me, the cadres despise me, the neighbors despise me, and the relatives despise me. They sing about my complaints, read my bits and pieces, and talk about my empty words. What have I become? It has become a stinking piece of shit that everyone hates, and a rotten intestinal plague that you can avoid whenever you encounter it. I have been a disabled person since I was 36 years old. Doesn't a woman become useless without a man? Doesn't it mean that a good woman is a waste when she is paired with a useless man? As the saying goes, you are not afraid of dry weather, as long as the earth is moist. Without a man, what's the point of moistening my land? Neither sorghum nor rice can grow, nor can red flowers or green leaves grow. If the ground is moist, only weeds can grow, and if the ground is wet, only leeches can grow.

On the third day of his birthday, Yang Detai finally couldn't stand it anymore and lay down on the bed. He never got up since then, but kept talking about his only son Yang Xiuyun. The day before Yang Xiuyun and his sisters Zi Shao and Hong Shao arrived at Qianlou, Yang Detai, who was exhausted both mentally and physically, died. After Yang Detai's funeral, the family property will naturally be divided. This is the inevitable result for a family like Yang Detai at this time. However, when dividing the family property, there is no swordsmanship and a life-and-death fight. The real estate was divided equally between Yang Detai's six daughters. The ninety-nine-room courtyard in Qianlou was inherited by Yang Xiuyun, and everyone in the Yang family was allowed to live there. Yang Xiuyun finally went to Taiwan with her eldest brother-in-law Li Maotian and eldest sister Zi Shao, and there is still no news about her. Although the ninety-nine large houses are there, there is no one in Yang Detai's family.

Their conclusion was that this drama was either produced by the Caotai team, or the production cost was greatly reduced, otherwise, it would not be so "amateur". In the title of the next episode, they saw Liu Guoliang's name on the screenwriter's screen, but it was at the end. In front of him, there was a line of "screenwriters" who were also directors or producers. I guess it was pretty miserable. This drama could only be broadcast in the middle of the night. Qi Yingying yawned and said, "We can't do it during prime time." "Oh, no matter what, it was finally filmed." Liao Xiaoning said with emotion. "It's better not to take a picture than not to take a picture." Qi Yingying yawned again, "I stopped watching. The more I watched, the angrier I became."

On the river beach, the lights are dazzling, and the glass-like river surface is glowing green. Qiuzhuang's eyes couldn't cover all this, and when he heard the singing again, it felt like scratching his ears, itching and feeling strangely comfortable. She had never heard such a sound before, and she didn't believe it came from her lips. Her steps stopped in intoxication and her head shook. This beautiful sound seemed to come from her dirty face. Qiuzhuang approached the two women singing. No one looked at her. The two women were wearing suitable bat shirts and performing opposite each other. Qiuzhuang twisted his clothes, took three steps and took one step back to ask questions. It turned out that he was practicing singing on the river. He couldn't sing well... But when his singing became more flavorful, he could sing for customers in the store.

That day, maybe two or three months later, maybe just a few months, anyway, that day is coming soon. My body will be carried out of the hotel by the Tibetans and passed through the road they just passed. These people wearing crimson, blue-green, and black Tibetan clothes, closely connected with the sky, the earth, the weeds, and the streams, are chanting words and ancient scriptures. The lamas of Langmusi lined up to hold ceremonies for me and pray for me on my way. I was sent to the sky burial platform surrounded by colorful cloths and flags. It didn't take long for my body to be digested by the eagles. My soul rises into the sky here, looking down at the earth through the eyes of an eagle. Maybe, in the next reincarnation, I will become a lama in the temple, maybe, I will herd cattle and sheep on the grass slope, maybe, no maybe.

"A Brief History of Urban and Rural Areas" is one of the series of books won by Lu Xun Literature Prize. Fan Xiaoqing, deputy secretary and vice chairman of the Party Leadership Group of Jiangsu Provincial Writers Association, chairman of Suzhou Federation of Literary and Art Circles, and editor-in-chief of "Suzhou Magazine". He is the author of seventeen novels, including "City Expressions", "Lesbians", "Barefoot Doctor Wan Quanhe", etc., And more than 200 short stories, including "Ruiyun", "Our Fighting Life Is Like a Psalm", "A Brief History of Urban and Rural Affairs", etc. His works have won the 2nd Jiangsu Province Literary Award, the 10th "Five One Project" Award and the 4th Lu Xun Literature Award. This book collects short stories and short stories written by Fan Xiaoqing in the past two years. These novels are close to life, involve multi-dimensional topics such as "officialdom", focus on the fate of small people, and integrate social changes into the vicissitudes of time.

CCTV's original folk songs are popular all over the country, and the original novels in northwest China will make people have endless aftertaste. This book is the third part of the author's "Great Northwest Trilogy". It is a long masterpiece that combines traditional novels, martial arts novels, and detective novels with strong readability and literary appreciation value. The novel uses a folk contract called "Return Agreement" as an opportunity to tell the story of a female corpse being stolen from a tomb, traveling on an ancient plateau road for seven days and seven nights, and finally being returned to her ex-husband. That which stands quietly under the sky, that which is noisy in the flow of time, that which shouts earth-shattering songs with the voices of sheep in response to the sounds of cattle, is this my northern Shaanxi, the land of my dear parents? Oh, this desolate, barren, pale, heroic, restless, and sacrificial land, this miraculous product of nature, this inconspicuous corner of the vast land of 9.6 Million square kilometers, this golden plateau. Oh, Shaanbei, my harp plays so passionately for you, my footsteps are so hasty, do you feel the throbbing of my heart? Do you see the tears hanging on my cheeks? Oh, Northern Shaanxi, with the same deep affection as a son for his mother, I pay my respects to you who come from far away and then go away from far away. You are like a graceful and magnificent celestial car driven by the sun god, marching majestically in the long river of history and the process of time. You roll forward with a hidden smile, revealing your figure in the middle of the clouds. All living things are like ants infesting your huge and fragmented body, hoping and disappointed, disappointed and hoping. Oh, Northern Shaanxi! --Quoted from "The Last Huns". Tradition is disappearing, classical spirit is disappearing, and yesterday's culture is disappearing. People like Zhang Jiashan may be the last knights wandering on the plateau. Decades and hundreds of years later, children will probably only see this kind of characters from fairy tales told by their grandmothers. This is a man of great wisdom, great humor, and a man with the mark of tragedy on his forehead. His chest is filled with something compassionate and worthy of our respect. This kind of thing is called "kindness". Because of this, all smiles have a bitter connotation. The character Zhang Jiashan is reminiscent of Don Quixote on the desolate Spanish plateau. Yes, they have a lot in common. They are both noble and kind, shrewd and stupid. They all try to correct society with medieval dreams. However, compared with Don Quixote, in our Zhangjiashan era, there are no horses that can take his place - not even horses that are skinny and angular and can fall down when the wind blows. Therefore, he seems more humble and practical, with more mud on his round-top cloth shoes. "Today, the whole city is dressed in festive costumes, the blacksmith is hammering out the music in the steel, the girls are dancing, and everyone is passing on a touching message: one of them is going to set off and conquer the world!" - These are the words people use for Don Quixote. If people apply the same words to Zhang Jiashan, I will be grateful to him. --Quoted from "The Last Folk" Gao Jianqun, born in December 1953, his ancestral home is Lintong, Shaanxi Province. Famous contemporary writers. A rare author with a sense of sublimity, classical spirit and ideal attention in the Chinese literary world. His main representative works include "The Last Huns", "Sixty-Six Towns", "Secrets of the Ancient Road", "Sad Face Knight", "Distant White House", "Dashundian", "Huma Beifong Desert", etc. In 2004, he was named the most influential contemporary Chinese writer by "Chinese Writers".

What started as a small conflict between teachers and students turned into violence when parents and public opinion intervened. Who ends up being the victim of this violence? Is it the young teacher who strives to be a good class teacher, or the thin and rebellious boy? On the second day of school, La Zhidong, a first-year high school student, went to the mathematics team office to find his class teacher, Liu Changle. He said, Teacher Liu, can you adjust my seat to the back? I want to sit in the back, preferably in the last row. The school has been relocated to a new location, and it has only been two years since they moved here. Everything on the campus is brand new, and the air is filled with the pungent smell of paint. They have to breathe this ubiquitous bad air as soon as they step into the school gate. Liu Changle's young face lifted up at the slightly bitter smell, and he sniffed out of habit.

Zhang Qiuju was anxious, thinking that it was time to get up, and quickly opened the bun shop. Otherwise, the steamed buns will not be steamed in time, and students who missed the morning self-study will be hard to open in a while. The plan for a year begins in spring, and the plan for a day begins in the morning. Whether the business of the bun shop is good or not depends entirely on the steamed buns. The steamed stuffed buns sold very well, and there were a lot of customers all day long. The wild dogs circled the door and couldn't even be blasted away. The steamed buns were unsaleable, and the sparrows didn't even come to poop in front of the door. Whether the first payment goes smoothly or not is related to the luck of the day! This is the unwritten rule of small businessmen.

The most famous "middleman" in the Chaoshan market, Lao Han, commonly known as "Pig among the Pigs", his daughter Qiaojia was abducted from home by Feng Bin, who played Captain Li from a foreign art troupe. Qiaojia became pregnant and was abandoned by Feng Bin. She returned to her hometown alone and helpless, but was tolerated and accepted by her boyfriend Jin Lijun, who was still deeply in love with her. However, this incident caused an uproar in her hometown. Jin Lijun is the only son of the township head Jin Daqing. How will this rural love affair end? There was no wind on the river bank, and the clouds in the north were extremely low, as dark as a soaked felt.

Deep in the jungle on the border of Hunan and Hubei, in the folds of the Wuling Mountains, the uncanny workmanship of nature has carved out a canyon that stretches for ten miles. White plum blossoms naturally grow on both sides of the canyon. In the cold winter, flowers bloom for ten miles, and the faint plum fragrance permeates the entire canyon and the clear plum river at the bottom of the canyon. Therefore, there is a place name with poetic rhyme - "Plum Valley". The total distance from the county seat to Meigu is 170 kilometers. As the police car headed west, the mountains got deeper and deeper, and the road became worse and worse. I was sitting in the passenger seat, supporting the car with my left hand, and grabbing the buckle next to me with my right hand. My butt was rolling around on the seat like a deflated basketball, and I couldn't sit still at all. From time to time I glanced at Hou Jun who was driving, and I saw that he was holding the steering wheel tightly with both hands, and his whole body was swaying. His eyes were staring forward, as if he was facing a powerful enemy. It seemed that he was no more uncomfortable than me.

The noise before class finally came to an abrupt end with the majestic long ringing of the bell. No one was wandering around outside the classroom, everyone stayed where they should be. The intimidating silence! She's late! This was a teaching accident! The silence on campus turned into a huge negative pressure, which made her afraid to breathe out. ... Run quickly! Quick! But her steps were so sluggish... Li Lu gasped for air and woke up suddenly. She stood up straight and sat up. Because she got up so violently, her head was dizzy, so she had to support the bed with her hands. The bedroom was gloomy and dim, and I couldn't tell the time, as if I had fallen into the infinite. Picking up the mobile phone placed on the bedside table, his consciousness slowly came back to him. Today is the weekend, I don't have to go to work, and it's not morning either.

Dreaming of That Tree Ever since summer, Huo Lanmei always had the same dream during her nap, dreaming of a tree. An old mulberry tree, as thick as a bucket, covered with purple mulberry apricots. Huo Lanmei's hometown is in the north, so she calls mulberries mulberry apricots.

The first year that Lan Jiucheng started raising pigs was smooth sailing, with no disease or disaster. Meat prices are high, feed prices are stable, and young livestock are cheap, so the benefits are good in the first year. Lan Jiucheng is the workshop director of a large state-owned factory. The reason why he can raise pigs outside of the leisurely working atmosphere is mainly due to three things. One thing is that the whole factory failed in the recruitment competition and Lan Jiucheng was changed from director to deputy director. Another thing is that the land that my father and brothers depended on for survival was occupied. Losing land means losing their jobs. The third thing belongs to Lan Jiucheng's personal wish. He just took advantage of this opportunity to make a small contribution to the realization of non-toxic food. Lan Jiucheng is the director of the power workshop in the factory, which is the key to building corporate power, like the human heart. Even though "Luopin" is just a few adverbs, the changes are earth-shaking.

It was the late 1980s. I remember one day, my cousin passed by the cinema. I asked him where he was going. He said he was going to borrow money from a friend. He planned to open a "motorcycle home" - a motorcycle repair shop. He would decorate the store, buy equipment and tools, and buy accessories. He didn't have enough money, so the friend he asked for was a friend from his reading club named Jiang Yi. Nothing happened, so I went with him. Jiang's father died early, and he remarried with his mother. It is said that his stepfather treated him like his own son and provided for him to finish high school. Through his connections, he found a job as an outside line maintenance worker at a power plant, which was pretty good and allowed him to make a living on his own. My cousin knew that Jiang Yi had saved some money since working. I walked through the twists and turns of the alley and came to an extremely old old house. On the way, my cousin told me that it was left by the ancestors of the Jiang family. It was passed down to his father's generation that there were still two houses, and many uncles from the Jiang family lived here.

I slept in the dark cabin, my mind confused and groggy. Sometimes I feel like I'm in a cradle, feeling like my body is dangling in the air and floating on the water. Suddenly, there was a violent jolt, which made me vomit, my liver and intestines were broken, and I felt so uncomfortable that I felt like I was going to die... I vaguely heard the cry of "Ah, ah, ah, ah...". This sound kept hitting my eardrums continuously and tirelessly, which made me very annoyed. I had no choice but to open my eyes with difficulty. I reached out and fumbled to turn on the bedside lamp, and under the dim light, a sturdy figure and an honest face appeared - oh, it turned out to be a mute. It's him calling me. After being woken up by him, I slowly woke up. It turns out that I am now on a sea ship. This sea ship, accompanied by the rumbling sound of machines, is sailing on the rolling sea.

Making a decision is actually not as difficult as imagined. At that time, I was still in the nail salon. A ray of sunlight leaked from the corrugated eaves on the street corner, reflected diagonally on the glass door, and bounced back to the long table covered with thick white cloth and filled with small bottles and cans. There was a slightly fishy smell of nail polish volatile in the air. A row of three customers and three shop assistants faced each other across the table, as if they were performing a solemn "kissing hand" ceremony. I am customer B among customers A, B, and C. I am sitting in the middle. A little girl with a white mask covering most of my face is doing my nails. One of my hands is "fixed" under the drying lamp, and the other hand is "fixed" on her hand. Then, like a puppet, I am commanded by her to switch positions with my left and right hands. At this time, the freedom of the head is particularly important. There is a TV that is always on hanging on the wall above the little girl's head.

It has been three years since I came to Shanghai, and I have not been back to my hometown in these three years. I was born in Guizhou, where I have my parents, my sister, and my brother. I lived in a small city in Guizhou for eighteen years. I left there to go to college. After graduation, I came to Shanghai. I went back three times in seven years. It has been three years since I last went back. I have to go back this time. Last time my sister got married, I didn't go back. I sent 3,000 yuan to my parents. I said one thousand yuan for you and two thousand yuan for my sister. This changed the fourth digit, the highest digit in my passbook, from six to three. This time I have to go back, I have to go back. My mother got sick half a year ago. She suddenly fainted on the way home from shopping for groceries. My brother said that luckily the problem was not serious and it was just a very small stroke.

When Qiu Yan stepped through the door, she tripped over the threshold. Only a century-old house from a wealthy family has such a high threshold. Qiu Yan has been in and out many times, but it still keeps stumbling. There were no lights in the hallway, so I had to walk in the dark. When I walked to my house, the light inside came out, and my eyes were a bit piercing, and my raised feet lost their size. Delin was lying on the bed watching TV, with bowls scattered around on the table. There were also a few fish bones, which Delin chewed into pieces and spat out in the bowl. Delin likes to eat fish, not all fish, only African crucian carp, while Qiu Yan has not touched any fish since she was a child, and the smell of fish makes her want to vomit. There was a pot, a bowl and two plates. It was not difficult at all to put down the chopsticks and wash them off. But Delin didn't wash them, leaving it to Qiu Yan.

In the city of Hezhou in the south of the Yangtze River, there is a shop that specializes in selling chopsticks on the main street called Shangji Chopstick Making Factory. The owner's surname is Shang Fushan, and his ancestor was a famous sculptor. The various chopsticks sold in the store, including gold chopsticks, silver chopsticks, ivory chopsticks, mahogany, sandalwood, and ebony chopsticks, are all carefully carved. The chopsticks are engraved with characters and animals or painted with flowers, birds, insects, and fish. When you walk into this quaint shop and take a look, not to mention paying for it, even when you go up to the counter and take a look, you will be amazed. You will be amazed by the chopstick-making technology and exquisite carving craftsmanship of the merchant, who actually turned a pair of ordinary chopsticks into something elegant. Of course, the price is not cheap. Not to mention gold and silver chopsticks, just a pair of carved wooden chopsticks, which cannot be taken away without dozens of dollars. Ordinary people would not dare to cross this threshold.

Hong Lin, formerly known as Liu Jianjun, was born in August 1965 in Ninghua, Fujian Province, and is a member of the Fujian Provincial Writers Association. His works are scattered in newspapers and magazines such as "Selected Novellas", "Selected Novels", "Novel Monthly", "Fujian Literature" and other newspapers and magazines, and published a long narrative prose "Cuijiang Ballad" and a novel "Blood Master". He has won the second prize of the 3rd Baihua Literary Award in Sanming City, the Special Honor Award of the 4th Baihua Literary Award, the first prize of the 27th Fujian Province Outstanding Literary Works Award, the second prize of the 7th Fujian Hundred Flowers Literary Award and other awards. My hometown is an old revolutionary area. During the Second Civil Revolutionary War, the people of the county enthusiastically supported the revolution under the leadership of the Communist Party of China.

There is a well-known "scholar" in the Organization Department of the Municipal Party Committee, named Wang Zhigao, who is thirty-one years old. He has a delicate appearance and speaks softly, like a handsome girl. His fame spread with his essays. The provincial newspaper and the city's evening newspaper often published his masterpieces. His writing style was sharp and sharp, with irony hidden between the lines. Director Zhu of the Organization Department was disgusted by his sour essays. He not only called him a "crooked talent" several times, but also wanted to transfer him to work at the grassroots level. However, many people in the department think that it is unprecedented for the organization department to have a scholar who writes essays, and they are somewhat proud of it. Zhao Yang, the director of the Propaganda Department, who is known as a nerd, admires Wang Zhigao so much that every time he sees his essays published in the newspaper, he reads the documents like Minister Zhu. He not only reads them with his eyes, but also reads them with his heart, word for word, and repeatedly scrutinizes them.

There are not many fun things in winter. There were no televisions, no cell phones, and no computer games. There was only radio, so, we were against the world. I have two friends, one is Lizi and the other is Brick. During this winter vacation, the three of us are like pickles soaked in a tank, soaking together every day, soaking up the greenness and soaking away the long winter. When we were twelve years old, we stood in the farm square every day looking at the tall chimneys in a daze. How tall is this chimney? We have carefully guessed it many times. I said twenty-five meters! Brick scolded me: "What kind of eyes do you have? You have a belly button. This chimney must be fifty meters long!"

One night in the summer of last year (2007), I suddenly received a call from Qinghai. He is a young cadre of the Hui ethnic group in the Qinghai Provincial Committee of the Chinese People's Political Consultative Conference. He informed me that the day after tomorrow, a burial ceremony for the ashes of Yukio Hattori will be held in Xining. By then, many Mongolian and Tibetan teachers and students of all ethnic groups who have returned to Han who have received Hattori's assistance, as well as Hattori's wife and children, will arrive in Xining. Knowing that I was a living friend of the deceased, he hoped that I could attend. I pondered for a while. The old man's white hair was flowing and his rosy voice came to mind. The next night, I flew to Xining. In the morning, at Fenghuang Mountain in Xining, a rare ceremony began. I witnessed the remains of a Japanese being slowly placed into the grave, surrounded by the lama's purple cassock and the snow-white hat of the Hui people.

Shi Zixian often heard Zhu Qiang's name from Jin Ziwei's mouth. Before the party at the beach, Shi Zixian had never seen Zhu Qiang once. Shi Zixian thought of Zhu Qiang during the meeting. The people in the school's human resources office were arranging appointments for the next professional title. It was a light rainy afternoon outside the window, and it was relatively cool in the auditorium, but Shi Zixian still felt that his head was heavy and he couldn't cheer up. Last night, Fang Zhixian was rarely at home. He rented eight video tapes from downstairs and saw six o'clock in the morning at once. When he fell asleep, the worldly noise of crowds and vehicles was already outside the window. When he opened his eyes, it was already twelve o'clock in the afternoon.

Teacher Yang Hong is a famous Chinese teacher in the city. She is a special teacher, a provincial model, and a national Golden Key Award winner. After decades of teaching, she has not only won praises from her peers for her teaching effectiveness, and impressed students with her knowledge, but more importantly, she puts educating people first, practices by herself, and sets a good example in front of students. The students loved her from the bottom of their hearts, and she loved the students from the bottom of their hearts. Parents always try their best to send their children to her class. Nowadays, there are families in the city where three generations of grandparents were once her students. During the holidays, all three generations come to visit her at home. This scene is really a beautiful scenery. Teacher Yang Hong couldn't help but feel elated every time she recalled this incident. She stayed up all night, prepared to go out of class, and went to correct essays one after another. She didn't feel any pain in her back.

The ridge blocks the afterglow of dusk into two corners, one bright and one dark. The sunny slope is bright and the shady slope is dark. In the darkness, the wind stops and the grass moves. In the distance, at the foot of the mountain, hunter Wang Yuan and his mentally ill son Wang Xiaogu are approaching the mountain. The two of them walked one behind the other on the ups and downs of the mountain road, like two tadpoles rising and falling, submerged in the bleak mountain forest. In the middle of the night last night, the village chief secretly came to Wang Yuan's house and said that the money for the subsistence allowance households would increase next year. Wang Yuan's eyes lit up and he thanked the village chief. The village chief said that the evaluation conditions are much stricter than before, and elderly people who are not old, weak, sick or disabled are not allowed to be evaluated. Wang Yuan looked at Wang Xiaogu sadly and said, yes. Yes. At this age, I have to take care of Xiaogu and Shanhua. Shanhua will go to junior high school during the Chinese New Year, and the expenses are getting higher and higher, which is really terrible.

The rising sun is higher than the top of Jiejin Mountain, the dark blue Heilongjiang is filled with sparkling waves, and the earth is gradually becoming warm. Fu Zhanxiang stood at the bow of the boat, but his cold body felt no warmth. On Jiejin Mountain on the right bank of Heilongjiang, all the mature trees had been cut down long ago. In Fu Zhanxiang's memory, it seemed that in the blink of an eye, only a few low shrubs were left on the once dense mountains. Due to lack of rain, the branches and leaves were withered and covered with dust. At the foot of the mountain is the fishing village of Hezhe, where he lives, with rows of low adobe houses facing the Lianhua River. The accountant of the production team carried the gong and led him to the entrance of the village. He suffered from the sequelae of polio and went up to the large protruding stone lid at the mouth of the Heilongjiang River and the Lianhua River. The production team accountant sounded the gong to call it a day.

Just after the first lunar month, Ge Lian went up the mountain to herd sheep and saw a few strangers measuring the fields at the west end of the village. Out of curiosity, he stepped forward to make some excuses, and at the expense of the two pheasants he had just trapped, he obtained the news that a highway was to be built here. On the day the incident spread, people followed the footprints left by the surveyors in the snow to determine the route of a highway. According to this route, not only would the cultivated land of Ge Lian and six other families be occupied, but if they did not turn around, they would also occupy the houses of Tong Mantang and Ma Guicheng. Seeing Ma Guicheng's happy look, the whole couple couldn't be happy. Ma Guicheng's house was built more than 20 years ago. Even if the authorities do not require it to be demolished, it is still time to demolish it. If people use the compensation money to build a new house, it is equivalent to exchanging the old one for a new one, and they will make a lot of money.

On this day, the head of the organization suddenly asked me, Xiao Li, are you in love? "No, Chief!" I said. The section chief said, "Take your clothes off and take a look." I picked up my clothes and shook them out, and a photo fell out. It was a jade photo of a Wa girl. "Ye Chun!" I blurted out. Ye Chun's father is the leader of the Lisuo tribe, and dozens of villages in the surrounding area are under his jurisdiction. For a long time, he did not agree with the People's Liberation Army stationed in the Lisuo tribe. Later, due to many incidents of overseas bandits entering the country and robbing his subordinates, and the bandits even injured his son, he agreed to the People's Liberation Army troops stationed in the Lisuo tribe.

"A Family in Wenzhou" is a novel written by Gao Mantang. The TV series of the same name was grandly launched on CCTV and hit the screens. "Wenzhou Family" tells the story: This is a group of people who dare to take risks and turn suffering into wealth. This is a group of people who know how to accumulate personal connections. This is a group of people who are the most profitable in the world. Their names are "Wenzhou Businessmen". The famous writer Gao Mantang spent three years following the entrepreneurial footsteps of Wenzhou people, using the original ecological life of a grassroots family as a model, and integrating it with China's more than 30 years of historical changes to present the wisdom, will and feelings of a generation of entrepreneurs. The vigorous entrepreneurial era has ignited the dreams of wealth for countless people. Zhou Laoshun, a farmer from Ruian, Wenzhou, held the belief that "only if you can make big changes can you make great achievements", he forced his young daughter to go abroad, sold his family property and fled, and moved his wife and children to the city to make a living. The family lived a miserable life of displacement. Zhou Laoshun started by scavenging, selling leather shoes, selling switches, setting up factories, and mining oil, doing whatever he could to make money; his wife Zhao Yinhua discovered business opportunities when she was selling rags, and made a career with small buttons; his son Maigou broke away from his father's control and went to Inner Mongolia to make glasses; his daughter Ayu Prato, a small Italian town, went through many hardships and earned its first pot of gold with its outstanding business acumen... A family of four living in different parts of the world sacrificed their precious family ties and searched for the true love amidst the hardships of falling and getting up again and again. They left indelible footprints in the history of the times. Their arduous and persevering entrepreneurial process is a wonderful epitome of the development of China's private economy over the past thirty years.

There is a river in front of Majiazhuang Village, called Fish Bird Hippo. Xiaogang's favorite thing is to walk on the river dam, stepping on his own shadow and listening to the sound of the sun. At first, the villagers were curious about his lonely figure. They used their own thoughts to ponder this solitary boy. Discussions about him were always the first to ripple in the river. Women like to go to the river to wash rice, Washing clothes, choosing vegetables, and chatting about all the topics in the village that are related or unrelated to them. The boy from Ma Si's family is too evil. He keeps his head down and doesn't talk all day long. He must have encountered something unclean or is possessed by ghosts and gods. The same goes for his blind grandma who spends all night knocking wooden fish. It's so pitiful. When you look at Ma Si's unlucky look, you really don't know how he can survive this life.

That night, Lin Bai took a step downstairs and fell down, losing one of his front teeth and developing a hare lip. About ten days later, he went to work, wearing a sun hat and a large mask. He thought it would be better to wear a pair of sunglasses instead of looking weird. The unit is located in an old courtyard in the old city. From a distance, you can see the tile ridges, which look like dragon scales and glow green-gray in the sun. The white paint on the sign on the door was gone. The "Shanhe County Meteorological Bureau" in black paint looked majestic, but it was peeled off in many places. Lin Bai's fingers itched when he looked at them. He thought to himself, if you want to remove them, you can remove them. If you don't want to remove them, then you won't remove them. Who would pity this for being so mysterious? It was itchy, but I couldn't bear to stretch out that finger, and breathed secretly, thinking of the mouth fairy air, blowing it out, and hanging it in front of my eyes, just like ordinary air.

Before the fifth watch, Master Ming woke up. As people get older, they doze less and less and wake up earlier and earlier every day. Summer is okay, but in winter, it's so dark outside that it feels like it's the middle of the night. It was quiet inside and outside the house, no sound at all. Ming Ye turned over and continued to lie down for a while, then turned over again and faced the window. It was still dark outside the window. I turned over several times like this, but there was still no light outside the window. The night seems to have weight. I can't sleep and lie on the kang. I feel pain in every part of my body. The thick mattress on the kang doesn't feel soft either. Ming Ye fumbled and picked up the mobile phone placed next to the pillow and looked at the time. It was only half past five. The mobile phone was used by my granddaughter Qing'er, and she gave it to Master Ming last year. She said that she had replaced it with a new one and taught him how to use it. Mr. Ming is seventy-six years old and his eyesight is blurry. His vision at night is even more blurry.

Lu Yi was born in 1971. He is a member of the Yunnan Provincial Writers Association and is currently the chairman of the Zhaoyang District Federation of Literary and Art Circles in Zhaotong City. He has published many novels in such publications as "Everyone", "National Literature", "Youth Literature", "Dianchi Lake", "Young Writers", "Border Literature", "Foshan Literature and Art" and other publications. Selected from "Novel Monthly" and "Works and Controversies", he published the novel collections "The Wandering Soul in the Village", "The Unstoppable Bitter Vine" and the prose collection "Raindrops and Wumeng". He has won the Yunnan Provincial Literary and Art Creation Award, the Frontier Literature Award, the Yunnan Daily Literary Award, and the Yunnan Provincial Outstanding Journal Editor Award. What a beautiful night like this. The stars were brilliant, the night dew was crystal clear, the light fell from the faint gaps in the clouds, and filtered in from the cracks in the broken tiles. One-eyed Zhao Si couldn't sleep. Although the one-eyed Zhao Si is old and has only one eye, he is very sensitive to light.

There were clear wrinkles on the corners of Zhai Shou's mouth, his face was pale and stiff, and he was in and out of consciousness. He was only forty-eight years old. By noon, most of the people in Yanmaoding had come to visit, and they all found it unbelievable. How could the horn of the bull hit the village guard's throat? Go in from below the Adam's apple and penetrate the esophagus without any deviation. There was a white cloth wrapped around the neck, and no wounds could be seen, but everyone felt itchy in their throats. I touched it subconsciously and found it was intact, which made me feel better. In Yanmaoding, the words of the village guard are the village rules and regulations and the code of conduct for everyone. Now that he was about to die, they felt both relieved and worried: Who would they listen to in the future? In the afternoon, Chen Denggao woke up completely and could not speak, but everyone present had guessed what he was going to say: Okay, now I am okay, I thought I had to die, but now I am alive, I will not die...

Yin Daning was born in Yesan, Chungcheongnam-do, South Korea in 1962. Graduated from the French Department of Dankook University in South Korea in 1988. In 1990, he won the "Literary Thought" Newcomer Award for his novel "Mother's Forest". He has won the "Modern Young Artist Award", "Lixiang Literature Award" and "Modern Literature Award". His major works include "Hearing Horse Hoofbeats", "Watching an Old Movie", "Remembering a Place Far Far Away", "Silver Fishing Correspondence", "Look at the Stairs to the South", "Cows Occasionally Enter the Hotel", "Beside the Chrysanthemums", etc. Yin Daning is the most powerful writer among writers of his generation. In other words, his aesthetic sensibility, style, novel modeling ability, and ability to capture the emotions of the times are very outstanding. He seems not to pay much attention to postmodernism, but postmodernism naturally appears in his novels.

The two mountain ranges in the north and south are like two camel teams running parallel from east to west, sandwiching the long and winding Yangjia Valley. In the spring rain, the mud huts looked like newly emerged mud bricks, extending wetly along the mouth of the ditch into the ditch. When we reached the gate of Yang Zijiang's house, the whole village came to an end. I grabbed a handful of sweat beads from my forehead and threw them to the ground: "Yang Zijiang! Get me a bowl of water quickly." The person who greeted me was not Yang Zijiang, but a big wolf dog. Just when this fierce guy was about to pounce on me, Yang Zijiang spoke under the peach tree in the yard, "Calm down, what are you yelling about?" The big wolfdog first braked suddenly, then turned back to the door of the house and lay down. It walked away and my head turned around. Yang Zijiang made a pun.

Li Mei and Jiang Hong Jiang Hong was taking a bath, while Li Mei was drinking. Jiang Hong took a bath alone in her own home in Tianyang Apartment, while Li Mei drank with Li Wen and Qi Jianfeng at the Lily Tavern. Jiang Hong's bathroom is very fragrant and warm. There are steps made of ceramic tiles on one side of the bathtub. Climbing up the steps, you can walk into the surf bathtub embedded in the stone platform. Fill the whirlpool bath with water, sprinkle with flower petals, pour in bubble powder, and add a few bath salts. Jiang Hong was immersed in such an atmosphere. The bathroom was dimly lit, steam was rising, and soothing music was playing. Li Mei, Li Wen, and Qi Jianfeng were drinking heavily. Qi Jianfeng was driving and could not drink, so Li Mei provoked him and said, "If you have a drink, I will take off my clothes." According to Li Mei's rules, Li Mei had already stripped down to just a pair of underwear. This shows that Li Mei drank a lot.

I don't know how I made that fatal mistake. I remember clearly at the time that the infusion I gave to the patient in bed No. 7 Was the appropriate ceftrizoate sodium infusion. However, it was only after the accident that I found out how the drug had become ceftizoxime sodium. Later, during the complicated investigation, analysis and characterization of the accident, there was a favorable opinion for me. These two drugs are antibiotics and anti-inflammatory drugs. It should be said that even if they are used incorrectly, such serious consequences will not occur. But the fact is that the patient fell into coma five times within a dozen hours after being given the wrong medicine. The hospital tried its best to rescue him, but the rescue was ineffective and the patient died. In the next more than a year, what did I, the creator of the huge accident, experience? All that was really unbearable to look back on! But what I want to tell is not this story, but my experience after I escaped from that vicious event exhausted both mentally and physically.