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A friend in Nanjing called me two days ago to tell me that Lao Jie was dead. I sat in front of the window holding the phone and didn't speak for a long time. Although Lao Jie is not related to me, he has lived in the brothel in our yard for six years. He comes in and out like my family. Even my dog ​​treats him as a member of the family and licks his feet and hands. Especially after I turned 40, I suddenly felt that being able to live in a courtyard for six years really required a kind of fate. There is a saying that "a hundred years of cultivation can lead to crossing in the same boat, and a thousand years of cultivation can lead to sleeping together." Not to mention sleeping on the same pillow, just saying that it takes a hundred years to cross the same boat, so six years of getting along will probably take hundreds of years of practice. Lao Jie is a rightist who was transferred to our team. From the moment I entered the village to the last time I left, I thought it was necessary for me to write this article.

As soon as I entered the corridor with my bag in hand, a ray of sunlight fell on me like a shadow. Ma Fuli immediately felt a strange smell and wiped his eyelids. It had an evil smell. Recently, that is, recently, many employees in the company have begun to look at Ma Fuli with suspicion. Of course, there are a lot of unreasonable things in this sideways glance. There are multiple versions in summary, and some of them are somewhat reliable: some people say that Ma Fuli is engaged in a shameful trick, hiding and hiding, like Can Xue who is afraid of the sun, and is as sneaky as a thief; People say that Ma Fuli has been mentally disturbed and very allergic in the past two days. He is suspected of being mentally stimulated and suffering severe emotional trauma. The evidence is that whenever he speaks, his words are either inconsistent with what he says or his questions are not answered, or he is taciturn and sits there silently, like a statue.

The night before the Waking of Insects, a thick and thin voice calling "Xiao Qian" in the wild sounded for most of the night. The rain started falling in the latter part of the night. At first it knocked casually on the iron eaves on the door lintel, but gradually it became denser and formed a fierce formation of horse hooves. There was only one three-finger-thick candle burning in the entire warehouse. The candle flame was blown by the wind that squeezed in through the crack in the door, and cast layers of mottled shadows on the roof and floor. Two snoring sounds floated above the continuous sound of rain. Old Han woke up and listened for a while before falling asleep again. The process of trudging out of a deep dream was a bit long. For a while, his mind seemed to be floating, and he saw the sky lightening little by little. Although it was slower, it was obviously past the time to wake up on weekdays. His mind told him who was still sleeping, not to be deceived by the rain-washed sky, but his body still couldn't break free from the dream.

My father suddenly appeared at my house all white. My wife found an opportunity, came up to me and whispered to me: "It's really stunning!" She was talking about the Chinese-style shirt and trousers that my father was wearing. It looked like they were custom-made in a small tailor shop. When he stepped forward and described the situation on the road to me, the dazzling white imitation silk trees looked like they were still but the wind was not stopping. To be honest, his outfit was impeccable, except for the light blue shorts that were looming underneath. I only glanced at it and never dared to look at it a second time.

Thinking is a word with a deep connotation. If classified, it can be divided into thinking, longing, longing, and longing. These categories have different meanings. Thinking is abstract, colorless, invisible, intangible, and intangible. But the thought is really there. Who hasn't thought about it? Even animals think about it. Do you want to have energy? My answer is yes: yes! The children are thousands of miles away, and when the parents are thinking anxiously, the children will respond and think back. When a relative is killed, all those who are related by blood will feel uneasy. Some people miss their deceased relatives or friends during the day, and their relatives or friends will meet them in their dreams at night.

The years go by, my dear, and soon no one will know what you and I know. --Nabokov. Xinhua Road is in the old city. It is a small street in this city. It is not prosperous enough and is even a little far away from the downtown area. The most impressive thing about this street is the sycamore trees on both sides of the street, and the low and low old buildings behind the sycamore trees with the same shape and neat rows. Among those buildings, the one that impressed Su Tong deeply was Building 36 on the north side of the street. It was a gray-white building facing the street in the middle of the street. In front of each dark building entrance was an old-fashioned chandelier shrouded in green lampshade. The old sycamore tree in front of the building leaned slightly towards the street, like a tired old man.

Mi Xiang took the bowl from her mother's hand and ate it heartily. While she was eating, she looked up at the wooden clock on the wall. It was already past twelve o'clock in the middle of the night. It was still raining outside, and the "squeaking" eaves hung with white flowers from the eaves, and fell on the rice-threshing barrels under the eaves, making a loud sound. Mi Xiang suddenly put down the bowl. She seemed to hear a burst of scattered footsteps. Could it be Pei Shao? Could it be Pei Shao? Could Pei Shao have caught up here again? Mi Xiang's heart began to beat wildly. She stood up and listened to the outside in panic. But it wasn't footsteps, it was just the wind blowing a can on the ground making a rattling sound. Mi Xiang ate heartily before asking her mother to wash her wounds.

Autumn 2007, harvest season. I graduated from the military academy, hurriedly said goodbye to my family, packed up my bags, and embarked on a journey with my dreams. My heart was full of excitement and excitement, thinking about how to start my military career. Sitting on the bus bound for the army, I couldn't help but be attracted by the scenery outside the window. The sky was dazzlingly blue and ridiculously high, with no clouds to be found, just so quietly blue. It makes people palpitate and makes them feel helpless. The open plains are criss-crossed by rugged ravines, and the fields are full of busy figures. The willow trees on the roadside are very plump, and their dark green leaves have gradually turned yellow. There are dots of dandelions under the tree. A breeze blows by, and the small umbrella carrying the seeds floats into the distance like a goddess scattering flowers. My heart is like that seed, floating aimlessly at this moment, not knowing its end point or its future.

"Tibetan Mastiff" tells the story of how a Tibetan Mastiff became the mastiff king of Xijie Ancient Grassland in the early days of the founding of New China and eliminated the conflict between the two grassland tribes. It promotes the spirit of peace, loyalty and bravery. When people always want to turn themselves into wolves, human nature has no choice but to let dogs take care of us and cherish us? The joys and sorrows, dignity and shame, responsibility and loyalty of these Tibetan mastiffs who cherish humanity more than humans combine the feelings of the Qinghai-Tibet Plateau, the mystery of Tibetan Buddhism, the compassion of humanitarian writers, and the joy of famous martial arts novels, and finally became the 2005 novel of the year. It is a melancholy reading, a shocking and joyful work.

This book is about a musical genius's struggle with himself, art and society, tracing the evolution of a German musician through many artistic struggles. The protagonist, John-Christophe, is an extremely sincere artist with a contradictory and uncoordinated character, full of passion for life but misunderstood by a hostile world. Edmund Coss called this book the noblest novel of the 20th century. This book is the masterpiece of the famous French writer Romain Rolland, for which he won the Nobel Prize for Literature.

More than a month after Binglian committed suicide by swallowing opium, and three years after his daughter Lamei was kidnapped by the old army on her way to get married, Tang Ying, who was crippled by the work team, and her son Shunxi, along with a cypress coffin, boarded a tattered flatbed truck. The cypress coffin was carved with patterns and painted. It looked heavy and solemn under the slanting sunlight, and shone with a strange light. After crossing the Jinghe River, the wheels of the cart got stuck. Three brothers, Li Fu, Li Sheng, and Li Han, bent down and pulled hard, and then the cart came out of the mud pit. Tang Ying hugged her son Shunxi and couldn't help but remember the good times when she was first married, riding a tall horse and wading across the Mirror River.

Le Tong blinked hard, picked his nostrils, and then picked his pocket again. His pocket was already empty, and all the odds and ends were gone. His heart ached, and he could only rush home dejectedly as he listened to the laughter of those who won the money. To the east of Huangchen Temple in Beigang Village, there are several low thatched houses. The door was still open, it was the door left by He Sichuan. After entering the house and lighting the lamp, his wife He Sichuan was sitting on the bed with disheveled hair, looking scary. Pi Tong felt even more angry and clenched his hands tightly. Seeing her look, he lowered his fists again. He was thinking about the bits and pieces of money, and it hurt. It was the money he was going to buy for He Sichuan, and it went into other people's pockets piecemeal and slowly. When Pitong gambled until he couldn't get a penny out, he got off the table and "hugged his neck" firmly.

My grandmother Zhao Songqin left a suitcase. The box is very old and the handles have fallen off. Looking at the trademark, it is made in Shanghai and dates from the 1950s and 1960s. The box was in a mess, with everything in it: a crystal mirror; a few calligraphy and paintings that belonged to my grandma; and her manuscript, the novel about Nalan Xingde; old photo albums, scattered old photos... I sat on the small bench and slowly packed the box. Everything was touched by my grandma. Su Zi said: "From the perspective of changes, the world can no longer change in an instant." That is to say, from the perspective of change, the world is changing every moment - such as existence, such as life and death, such as my grandma and my mother. They used to be the most beloved existences in my life, but now they are gone. Su Zi also said: "From the perspective of its unchanging nature, both things and myself are endless."

Dr. Yu Yang disappeared again, and his phone number was empty. I said he disappeared again because he disappeared once ten years ago. On that sunny summer day ten years ago, he sent me such a text message, and I still remember it fresh. He said: Just think of me as dead. I think this must be another joke. We often send such joking text messages to make fun of our ordinary life. Unexpectedly, he disappeared from my sight for ten years. At that time, I texted him back and said that your joke was too big. If you were really dead, I would still have to go along with it. According to our friendship, I would have to go along with it for 500 yuan no matter what. At that time, I could only earn less than 1,000 yuan a month. Generally, when I married a wife and had children, I only earned 100 yuan. I always feel that he will reply to me this text message: Okay, you can just go ahead and let's go to the Miramar Hotel, the best hotel in your area, to have a meal first.

When the waves are entangled feverishly with the coast, they will cool down, and the earth-colored coast will be exposed. By six o'clock in the afternoon, the temporary road surface will disappear. Just like the first time, I looked at the road for a while, and then carefully drove the car onto the road. The pebbles exposed after the water receded made a creaking sound when they were rolled over by car tires. It was already a very old car, and while it was tossing around, I still bravely crawled along the concrete floor. At this time, a cultivator slowly drove up from the front. As he passed my car, the man on the cultivator waved and whistled playfully. The man's hair floated with the whistle. Although there was nothing on the road, it looked to me like it was covered in waves.

Our intention was to come here for seclusion. This small island is named after the Gotlanders who once settled here. It is nearly 90 kilometers away from the Swedish mainland. It looks like a lifeboat that was thrown into the boundless sea before the mother ship sank and was left to float. The International Writing Camp is located behind a forest in the center of the island, next to St. Joseph's Cathedral. This church was abandoned after the 13th century, and now only the magnificent skeleton remains. The blazing sunlight passes through the dome that has disappeared for hundreds of years, drawing a beautiful arc on the ruins, and crows peck at the wildly growing grass. Even back in the 13th century, the cathedral was still an icon of the middle of nowhere. Saint Joseph was a monk who volunteered to care for lepers. He and his patients were ordered to stay away from human settlements and built a shelter here. Afterwards, the God of Death led them one by one to leave this place and go further away. I still remember that in June of this year, a total of sixteen novelists came to the writing camp.

On a sunny day in late spring and early summer, the sun was shining brightly, and steam was rising from the moist ground. Everything was fluttering and changing in this intangible steam. As soon as the bell rang for work, the staff in each group room became busy. Everyone is very excited because they have to move today and leave this resentful courtyard-style ancestral hall. The ground in the ancestral hall is wet all year round, especially during Huangmei Tian. The ground is wet, just like the open water on the ground. If you step on it, there will be a "goo" sound. When it rains heavily, everyone has to carry their leather shoes and wade through the water to enter the office. Can you not complain? The original ownership unit of the ancestral hall was a local hospital, which served as a ward. It is said that people died in every room. In fact, in Shanghai, among the old bungalows built for hundreds of years, which one has not had someone die? This is especially true in Pudong.

My sister came here specially to accompany Sang Mengsen to go through the procedures for settling the hospital bills. There were a lot of people, and the line in front of the charge counter in the lobby on the first floor was very long. When it was finally their turn, his sister and the charge lady got into an argument about whether the fee for a certain examination should be paid by the patient themselves or paid by health insurance. Just one last thing and it's all over. After settling the bill, they silently walked to the elevator, preparing to take the elevator that had been in and out countless times in the past six months to the eighth floor and go to the ward to pick up their father's things. Before waiting for his sister to arrive, Sang Mengsen had already packed his things, stuffed them all into a big paper bag, and placed them on the hospital bed. Just now he wanted to say that it would be inconvenient to carry it, so he decided to leave it for now and wait until the formalities were completed before picking it up.

Yu Changshan was always enveloped by a burning smell all day long. His nose was as dry as a chimney, and he was worried about nosebleeds whenever he sneezed. Yu Changshan knew where this smell came from. That place was called Big Cross, the heart of Yuzhou City, and it was a famous barbecue street. Although Yu Changshan dislikes this burnt smell, like many passive smokers, he has no choice but to adapt, because the only place he can relax in the county is Maer BBQ on Grand Cross. Yu Changshan is a vegetarian. His vegetarianism has nothing to do with his faith. He just hates the burnt smell of kebabs. Every time he comes, he gets a plate of edamame and two bottles of Songlin beer. He has enough left over, which is exactly two yuan and a half.

"Children Outside the Jiang Family" is the memoir of Jiang Xiaoyan (vice chairman of the Chinese Kuomintang). It records the twists and turns of Jiang Xiaoyan and Jiang Xiaoci's life. Many inside stories are revealed for the first time, which has strong readability and historical value. This publication excerpts a chapter for the readers' pleasure. It wasn't until I was in my second year of high school, in the winter of 1958, that I learned from my grandmother that I was related to a great and prominent family. At that time, my grandmother was already old, frail and sick, and was in her final years. She may have felt that her days were short, and if she continued to hide it, if something unexpected happened and she failed to reveal the mystery of her "life experience" to me and Xiaoci, she would die with regrets. It was a Sunday morning, and it was raining lightly outside. After breakfast, her old man asked Xiaoci and me to sit on the edge of her bed.

Shuangshui County has claimed to be the estuary of the Yellow River in China since the 1980s. It seems that not adding the word "China" is not enough to show the value of this county. Because it benefits from coastal and underground mineral deposits, its economic development is better than that of several neighboring cities. According to officials, its GDP is higher than other cities. Although Shuangshui County is economically developed, the only drawback is that the cultural aspect is not optimistic. To put it bluntly, so far, the county with a population of hundreds of thousands does not even have a national-level Writers Association member. According to the 10,000 national members announced online last year, the county needs at least two members based on population to meet the distribution ratio.

Late one night, Aunt Ju from the village suddenly called. I started crying without saying anything, and the sobbing sound rang on the phone, which made me realize that something was not trivial. I asked her what was going on, and she sobbed and said, Xiaoqin... Xiaoqin is dead. I was shocked and asked how he died? Aunt Ju said that she would die by cutting her wrists. I asked why? Aunt Ju said, What I fear most is asking why. My daughter died, "I don't know how my mother died. I feel so depressed. Mingxin, don't blame me for waking you up in the middle of the night. I have to talk to someone. If I don't talk, I can't sleep. I haven't slept for three days and three nights." Xiaoqin is Aunt Ju's only daughter. When I left the village, Xiaoqin was only three or four years old. When I saw her later, she was already a girl of eighteen or nineteen years old.

It has been several years since the Municipal Cultural Bureau became what it is now. It is not what it is, but it just loves to quarrel. According to their own words, it is called poor quarrel. But not everyone likes to be noisy. It is often the quarrels between Zhong Guangjing, the webmaster of the cultural market management station, and Liu Lixin, the chief of the group literature section, that cause others to quarrel. Qinghe City is a county-level city. It is an area with old, young, marginalized and poor people. The economy is underdeveloped and the financial situation is tighter than other places. The salary is often paid from one month to the next, let alone other benefits. Those units that have the conditions will give full play to their own advantages, which is called making up for the deficiencies within the dike. The Municipal Cultural Bureau is engaged in the construction of spiritual civilization. There are no hard targets for the following, so people don't need to come to your door, and the Cultural Bureau becomes a Qingshui Yamen.

Fire Crab Island is composed of a cluster of peaks protruding from the vast expanse of blue waves. From a distance, it looks like a cluster of blue and yellow wormwood. From a close look, it looks like a group of buildings rising from the green gauze tent, crowded and towering up to the sky. The world has been open since ancient times, and the years have gone through vicissitudes. The uncanny power of wind and waves has split half of the mountains on the periphery of the island, forming steep cliffs, which are high and precipitous. Those who are good at climbing up and looking down, my mother! The rocks at the bottom of the mountain turn into fly dung, and the rough waves turn into fine waves. You will be so dizzy that your legs will tremble and you will shudder. Before you can clearly see the scenery at the bottom of the mountain, you will give up. The Banla Mountains that were cut down from the outside were filled into the sea. The island shelf extending from the roots of the mountains is covered with large and small bright and dark rocks, forming a huge atoll reef area. Therefore, the island is rich in fire crabs, hence its name. Meiyi's store is located next to the pier. It is a small store with only three rooms. In addition to selling fishing necessities, it also sells tobacco, wine, sugar and tea.

"Don Quixote" is one of the earliest full-length realist novels in Europe. Through Don Quixote's knight-errant adventures, it depicts a broad picture of Spanish society in the late 16th and early 17th centuries, showing the darkness and decadence of feudal rule. It has a distinct humanistic tendency and expresses a strong humanitarian spirit.

Wuhu ran away from home one morning in late autumn. Wuhu was wearing a small evening dress, a snow-white bow tie, and his sparse yellow hair was combed smoothly. He carried his luggage and walked out of the house like a little prince in a fairy tale. He bid farewell to his splendid two-story building calmly and unnoticed. He took a pair of short legs and walked out of Dingye Xingcun Wuhu. When he left Ye Xingcun, he didn't feel the sadness of running away from home at all. He walked out with a smile as usual, singing a song he made up as he walked: Wild flowers bloom on the wild apricot trees, jellyfish are born without mother, grapes climb the gourd frame, no wonder the seedlings don't bear melons, they walked out of the three or four miles of loess road, stepped onto the asphalt road, Wuhu, walked all the way, and plunged into the crowds of people waiting for the train.

Wang Ergen shouted at the top of his voice all night long, but his rhubarb, erhuang, and small huang didn't come home. As a result, Wang Ergen's shouts like broken gongs were heard all over the village's alleys: Rhubarb - Erhuang - Xiaohuang - Big and small stars, bright and dark, filled the dark sky. Farmers who had worked hard all day turned off the lights one after another.

The sudden bloody battle took place on the third day of the first lunar month, when a son-in-law accompanied his daughter-in-law back to her parents' home. That day, the weather was sunny and mild, like spring in March. The streets were filled with vehicles visiting relatives and a family of three in well-dressed clothes carrying gifts. Far and near, firecrackers sound from time to time, the sky is filled with the aroma of gunpowder, and the flavor of the New Year is still strong. Li Rui walked out of the stairs excitedly, opened his arms, took a deep breath, and felt refreshed, sweet and full of happiness. Walking to the parking lot, I couldn't help but sang Yang Zirong's Erhuang Guide: Through the forest, across the snowfield, so angry that my wife Lu Rong reached out and slapped him on the back of the head, causing his high-pitched singing to turn around and soar into the sky.

Chen Sheng, born in February 1991, is currently the platoon leader of a regiment in the Shenyang Military Region. He has published novels "Through the Four Seasons" and "Broken Bones", and the full text has been serialized on a special web page of Xinhuanet. A number of literary reviews that praised his creations and works were published in the People's Liberation Army Daily, Xinhuanet and the Advance Newspaper. The novella "Bone Fracture" was published in the 2013 issue of "People's Liberation Army Literature and Art". The third novel is about to be completed. The weather was getting cooler, and the night fell early. The dim street lights reflected the lazily swaying branches. I stood in front of the window and couldn't help but hug my elbows. I know in my heart that winter has shown its livid face. Coming soon is the first Sunday off in a month.

Accidental death always comes very suddenly and catches people off guard. The deceased's name was Li Yue. It was early morning when the news came. It was already bright and the weather was good. The first news we heard after getting up was that Li Yue had died, which surprised us, was incredible, and how harsh and harsh the world was. Li Yue is dead? Is Li Yue really dead? We think this is simply impossible. Li Yue dares to die? How could he have such courage? Is he really desperate? Is his life really lost? We were shocked and speechless. We are all familiar with this Li Yue, he is one of us. Not only are we familiar with each other, we are also traveling together with him, doing the same work. Besides, he went to work and had dinner with us the day before yesterday.

Wu Meng, born in 1969, is from Shexian County, Anhui Province, and now lives in Shanghai. This work is the author's debut, aiming to reproduce a kind of unbounded love and warmth. Shipp, a small town in southeast London with a small population, is very quiet because it is far away from the hustle and bustle. The large lawns and dense woods give this town a paradise-like natural scenery. The weather in November is already very cold. On both sides of the small town's not very wide roads, there are not many leaves left on the tall street trees. The bare branches are trembling in the wind. The ground is covered with fallen leaves. Occasionally, a few pedestrians hurriedly walk on it, making a "rustling" sound. The moist air is filled with the smell of dead leaves and earth.

The afternoon when Zhang Yiqiu and Zhang Yuming met, the sky was a little overcast, as if it was going to rain soon. The place where they met was this county - of course, it can also be said to be this city, because two months ago it also enjoyed the sunshine of the "removal of the county and the establishment of a city". However, local people are still used to calling it "this county", so let's stick to this directional thinking - the most famous "Red Mansion Restaurant" in this county. Zhang Yiqiu and Zhang Yuming didn't look very good when they walked into the Red Mansion Restaurant.

Master Long Qi walked out of the teahouse and saw a group of people gathered in front of the county office. He narrowed his eyes strangely and kept looking towards the crowd. He turned the walnut in his left hand twice in a "kaba kaba" motion, and then walked toward the crowd in a "" motion. Mr. Long Qi is over sixty years old, but his body is still strong and his legs are light. He walks like a race walk, causing a small braid on the back of his head to sway from side to side, as if he is drunk. Seeing the manager of Tianfu Restaurant approaching, everyone's eyes were focused on Long Qiye. Just like Long Qiye is a magnet, their eyes are like iron balls, with complex expressions, some frightened, some sad, some hopeful, and some hesitant. Master Long Qi glanced around at all kinds of faces, his eyes fell on the face of a young man, and asked: "What's going on?"

After "a long period of vigorous years", if you still think that carpenters are just a bunch of gray-faced guys, carrying bamboo baskets containing planers, ink fountains and other tools, hurriedly walking through the crowd, with the sweat of laborers on their faces, then this person must have never been to Qicheng. Because carpenters in this era are the most respected white-collar workers, people who can usually be called carpenters are often invited to appear in important public occasions under various names. Of course, they refuse suits and ties, but wear long-breasted gowns and elegantly deliver various concise speeches. As for the color of the robe, it is actually very particular. The Carpenters Association, the most authoritative non-governmental organization in Suspicion City, has a long-standing rule on this. From yellow to black to gray, it represents three levels of carpenters. People can determine the skill and level of a carpenter just from the color of the robe.

I heard from my grandpa that one year before I was born, he and his grandma took my father and aunts, carrying bed rolls and pots and pans, and set out from their hometown in the countryside of Baoding Prefecture to beg for food. They walked through the long Guandong dirt road and came to the Songhua River, hoping to find a wealthy place to stay. They sailed down the river in a large sailboat and came to a place where they saw large pine trees piled up on the shore. The workers carried huge logs and shouted "Hey, hey, hey". Women and children peeling bark ran up and down, and vendors selling sesame cakes, twists, cut cakes, and hoof meat shouted loudly. There are many masts and masts of large sailing ships on the water. The boatmen who are hoisting the sails are shouting different chants from those of the workers who are returning home. The two chants are equally neat and high-spirited, revealing the unyielding spirit of struggle in suffering.

The weirdo's surname is Kang and his first name is Yunyi. His ancestral home is Huluwan and he currently lives in Qinglong Town. He was born into a medical family. His grandfather created a business model that was both medical and business. At that time, people had a saying about Qinglong Town: "Every family in Qinglong Town has money, every family has no money, and a few pots of money are swept out in every corner." The money coming in and out every day was like running water. The ancestors of the Kang family were not willing to be a poor doctor, so they opened Wanhengxiang Pharmacy in the town. Mr. Kang practiced medicine and sold medicines, and he could earn one or two hundred taels of silver every year. In the hands of Kang Yunyi's father, he brought both medicine and business to an extreme, and also engaged in the trafficking of medicinal materials. He purchased medicinal materials such as wolfberry, Codonopsis pilosula, astragalus, red root, and licorice from Gansu, Ningxia, and Inner Mongolia, shipped them to Qinglong Town, and then took the land route and transported them by camel team to Jinzhong for sale.

Along the Jiangnan-Nanjing Railway, there is a large and densely populated town called Wangxianqiao. Three miles north of Wangxian Bridge, there is Hujia Village. There are more than 100 households in Hujia Village. Most of them have practiced martial arts since childhood, and their folk customs are strong. The leader is Hu San, who is chivalrous and fearless. Hu San has a round waist and thick legs, and he is good at fists and kicks. He is so powerful that even ten men can't get close to him. It was the early Republic of China, when warlords were separatist, wars continued, rural political power was paralyzed, bullies and bandits were rampant, and it was difficult for the people to live in peace.

The origin of Bronze Jue, whose origin is unclear, is the season when cherry blossoms are falling. The streets of Tokyo are like snow and the feet are like mud. An antique auction house was packed with seats, with many players and speculators from the antiques, business, and literary circles gathered together, as well as many casual visitors watching the excitement. The auction has entered into full swing. In addition to a small amount of pottery from the Japanese Tumulus Period and the Asuka Period, the antiques sold are also rare items "purchased" from China, Myanmar and Southeast Asian countries during World War II. A Tibetan Thangka from the Northern Wei Dynasty has just been sold for 3.4 Million yen, and another blue and white porcelain plum vase from the Yuan Dynasty has been sold for 120 million yen. Then there are fan paintings by Tang Bohu and the pure mud inkstone used by Emperor Kangxi... As a result, two Chinese citizens in the corner of the auction house are sitting on pins and needles.

Minnie Vautrin (Chinese name Huaqun, September 27, 1886 - May 14, 1941), American, professor at Jinling Women's College of Arts and Sciences. During the Nanjing Massacre, she actively rescued Chinese refugees and used Jinling Women's College of Arts and Sciences (now Suiyuan Campus of Nanjing Normal University) to protect tens of thousands of Chinese refugees. The tears of a foreign woman flow from the eyes of a Chinese woman. The smell of war is the smell of a burning heart. The smell of war is getting stronger day by day.

"Damn it, this time I got lucky." At dusk, they waited for Uncle Kui at the entrance of the ditch. Every moment, they stood up and looked out of the ditch. They could only see the tall, steep cliff face and the thin path under the cliff face. There was no sound or trace of anything else, not even a bird flying by. But they knew that Uncle Kui would come to their ravine soon, because Uncle Kui couldn't wait to call someone to deliver the message and tell them the great news. They did nothing in the afternoon, but anxiously waited for Uncle Kui at the gate of the ditch. They were so excited that Wang Dahu even felt ashamed that they were so excited.

Qian Fan is the mold used by ancient people to mint coins. At the end of the Western Han Dynasty, Wang Mang proclaimed himself emperor and ordered reforms and reforms. The five-baht coin was discarded and the knife-money-cloth money was restored. Although short-lived, Wang Mangqian left many coin treasures for future generations. Wang Mang's coin model was the first of its kind to be used in copper coin molds. It is extremely rare and has attracted collectors for thousands of years. --Author's Notes. Mr. Jia from Jinguiyinlou invited Xi Mian to drink wine cooked in the Huang family's red stove. Many people in Xiangyang city spread the news. Xi Mian is a small gong player. In the past, he was a non-existent person in Master Jia's eyes. This makes many people feel strange. For many years, a kind of "gong beating" profession has been spread up and down the Han River. The so-called "gong beaters", in layman's terms, are those who collect old goods and rags.

I heard that writing novels online most tests the author's ability to tell stories, so I suddenly wanted to give it a try because a novel I had been brewing for a long time just happened to tell a story. I also heard that online readers are very picky and ruthless when reading novels, especially when it comes to unknown rookies. If no one cares about you for three to five days, they will put you in cold storage unless you have a special skill. This seemed very challenging, so I felt more lucky. If you go to the Tianya Community Wuwenongmo Edition and take a look, you will see that there must be hundreds of serialized novels. The popular hot post has millions of clicks, and the posts are constantly refreshing and very lively. It's not popular. It's only been viewed by two to three thousand people for several months, and half of them are posted by the original poster himself. Choosing a day when I was in a good mood, I, the newbie, set off.

I am in a dream. The meaning of the dream was exactly the same as the previous dreams of getting rich: following my grandma or an uncle or an aunt, I dug under the gable of the east room of my hometown. In a deep hole, I finally saw a large red sandalwood-colored ceramic jar, a very large and round ceramic jar. I hurriedly stepped forward to hug the jar. When I was young, I tripped over something and fell to the ground. Then, I saw a stream of turbid water flowing out of the brand new ceramic jar... I helplessly watched the turbid water spread, watching the turbid water quickly soak into the soft soil dug to find the jar... I was awakened by a harsh phone ring in the disappointment of my dream. I hurriedly picked up the phone and my mother's voice came from inside. Only my mother would call me this early in the morning.

The uncle planned and implemented a trap in which his niece lived with a "butcher". What would happen with such a combination? She got pregnant, gave birth to a son, and was adopted by her uncle who suddenly appeared. The uncle became the child's adoptive father, but she was nothing. What is going on? The ending is beyond your expectation. It's time to go home again this month. Uncle said to Manman: You must tell your mother about the school this time. It should have been said three months ago, but Manman kept putting it off. Mom won't like hearing that. During the last monthly exam before the final exam, Manman made up her mind to take the paper in front of her as the last paper in her life. The teacher's lectures became faster and faster, and the lectures became deeper and deeper. Manman listened more and more confused. Once or twice, she seemed to understand a general idea. When the bell rang, the vague outline disappeared like a flock of frightened birds.

This is a small street called Sanliwan. When all the streets in the city were paved with stones, poured with asphalt, and became flat and wide, only this small street still retained its own style: 3,700 large bluestones were paved unevenly from one end of Sanli Bay to the other, as if stubbornly trying to leave some quaint relics to this ever-changing small city. In which dynasty and generation did the bluestone road in Sanliwan begin? No one in the small town could tell. Some say that it was built by the first civil servant in the small town during the Qing Dynasty to go to the capital for the examination and donate money to Buddhism; others say that after the Boxer Rebellion was defeated, the French set up a missionary school here to enable the church students to pass the three-mile road safely in the mud on rainy days, thus reflecting the mercy and omnipresence of God.

When the Japanese invaded China, great rivers and mountains were lost in vain because the Kuomintang reactionaries adopted a policy of non-resistance. But no matter how powerful the Japanese aircraft and artillery are, they can only occupy points and lines but not ground when they invade China. Northeast China, North China, Central China... Some cities, counties and towns along the railways and highways fell into their hands, but the vast countryside, mountains, forests, lakes and rivers, and even the great plains covered with green gauze tents were nominally occupied by them, but in reality they were still our Chinese land. Especially the people's hearts. No matter what flags the Japanese devils use or what slogans they shout, "China-Japan friendship," "same culture, same race," "coexistence and common prosperity," they can't deceive the Chinese people. As Chinese people, our eyes and ears are unswerving and our hearts are unmoved. If we live, we are Chinese, if we die, we are Chinese ghosts.

Targeting China, it is a sinister war that is long-term, shocking, bloody and mysterious, and has no smoke. Currency wars, oil wars, food wars, drug and vaccine wars, economic wars, military wars, environmental wars, media wars... A "set within a set" of dangerous situations, a "chain within a chain" of success step by step. How to solve the problem? How to decode? Mr. William Endall, a famous American economist and geopolitical scientist, uses a unique geopolitical perspective to truly, rigorously and vividly outline the world's geopolitical struggles, revealing the U. S. Ruling group's strategy of "cooking the frog over a slow fire" to "slay the dragon" in international politics and economics to isolate China, create crises, severely damage and even stifle China's development. He also exploits the fatal weakness of U. S. Hegemony and supports China's winning strategy.

Meng Geer opened a clinic in Shiping, Shanghai. Needless to say, foreigners were tyrannical and misbehaving in ancient China. There is also a group of hooligans who wear the guise of religion and scientists. They talk about the "Bible" of "peace and fraternity", but secretly they are engaged in the business of stealing men and women into prostitution and robbing people's wealth and money. As a result, many descendants of the Yan and Huang Dynasties, bloody men, and heroines were introduced, and they composed a series of mighty and majestic epics that can be sung or trashed. Today I will not talk about the knights and knights who fly over the eaves and walk over the walls, nor will I talk about the talented and beautiful women who spend time under the moonlight.

Legend has it that there were three brothers in Dawangzhuang, Beijing, who traveled south to make a living. After walking 800 miles, the eldest son stopped, while the second and third sons continued southbound. After walking for dozens of miles, the second child stopped and the third child continued walking. After walking for dozens of miles, the third child also stopped. After that, the three brothers each married and had children, and the children had grandchildren, and the grandchildren had children. To this day, they have multiplied into Zhuangzi with nearly a thousand people. Wangjiazhuang is Lao Er's village. When did it start to be called Wangjiazhuang? There is no way to verify it. It's not just Wang surname here, it's already mixed with many other surnames. Many things must have happened in many lifetimes, but there are no village diaries and no records left. I paid attention to some people and things in the village and made notes. Now I compiled an article "People and Things in Wangjiazhuang". Wang Wenchang from Laowu Wangjiazhuang has an elegant name but no culture at all.

Zhu Hongmei is from Suzhou City, Jiangsu Province. He started writing novels in 2005 and has published dozens of short and medium-sized stories in such journals as "Mountain Flower", "Great Wall" and "Novel World". In 2010, he published a collection of short and medium-sized stories "The Temperature on Fingertips". Member of Jiangsu Provincial Writers Association and member of China Financial Writers Association. Hua Linghai's garden is still the same as it was three months ago, except that the holly on the two walls is old and the leaves look thick and fleshy. Rongsheng lay on the ground, inserted his entire upper body into the gap between the trees, and kept twisting his legs back and forth. An earth-colored cricket jar sits quietly next to the holly tree. Screaming, screaming - Rongsheng's voice seemed to come from underground. Come out quickly! The dirty ones come from the West. Where did the crickets come from in the cold weather? My sister Hua Yingyi stood on the bluestone steps and shouted.