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As the sun set in the west, a black Mercedes-Benz car slowly drove into Yanzhou County. Pedestrians next to it saw their own figures in the car and couldn't help but exclaim: It's so beautiful! The Mercedes-Benz sedan circled the city and slowly stopped on the Xihe Bridge in the west of the city. A nearly sixty-year-old man got out of the passenger seat, walked around behind the driver, opened the driver's rear door, and helped an elderly man with silver hair out. They looked at Yanhe for a long time. The elder shook his head in confusion: "I can't find it. It should be in this area." The elder took out two yellowed black and white photos from the black handbag he carried with him. One was the gate of the oil plant, and the other was the panoramic view of the oil plant. The old man compared the photos but could not find any traces of the past, and said to himself: "It has been almost sixty years, and earth-shaking changes have taken place here, but the surrounding mountains have not changed, they are still so high, they must be nearby.

Close friends all say that Rie is a miracle, not only Rie is a miracle, but Rie's grandmother is also a miracle. A ninety-year-old man, who is neither deaf nor blind, can still eat half an elbow in one meal. Do you think it is a miracle? And grandma is not confused, not only the things in front of her, but also things further away, very far away, more than ten or decades ago, and even things in the Republic of China. But grandma has a problem. When talking about the past, she only talks about things, not people. The story is clear and wonderful, but there is always a character missing in it. When grandma started nagging, Rie always half-listened and couldn't muster the energy to finish listening to her story. Grandma was not angry either, and still kept nagging her, just like reciting a scripture that could never be finished, no matter whether there was an audience or not, she would read it to the end.

From the moment he registered in the lobby, Yang Pu had a vague feeling that this might be a wrong appointment. Yang Pu saw that the register had already had signatures before him: Liu Daming, Shi Jianping, Wang Yilu, Liu Mei, etc.; In the unit and job column, there were also signatures: Chairman of Gongyangshan Mining Co., Ltd., General Manager of Weida Industrial Co., Ltd., Executive Director of American Far East Sphery Business Co., Ltd., President of Oriental Art Wenda Co., Ltd.... These companies and titles revealed wealth and strength; but to Yang Pu, they seemed to reveal aggressive "personal attacks." Yang Pu wrote "Mashan Mining Co., Ltd." In the unit column, but he wrote nothing in the job column at the back.

I first met Wu Yinyi at a popular literature and art seminar at the Chengde Summer Resort in the mid-1980s. At that time, he was still a budding "literary youth". Over the past twenty years, he has published nearly ten novels, edited many TV series, won many awards, and held titles such as "National People's Congress Representative", "Deputy Director of the Municipal People's Congress", "Chairman of the Municipal Federation of Literary and Art Circles", and "Vice Chairman of the Provincial Writers Association". He has written many books and is famous far and wide. He is a "literary prince" with great achievements. Now that he is sixty-six years old, he has returned to work and is working as a professional writer at home. The last time I met Wu Yinyi was in March of this year (2012), at a meeting held by the Chinese Writers Association. At the launching ceremony of the "Biography Series of One Hundred Chinese Cultural Celebrities", Wu Yinyi accepted the task of writing "The Biography of Chen Zi'ang" and happily returned to his hometown in Sichuan to write.

This book consists of 6 novellas. The themes of the stories all come from the place where the author lived, Wucun. These novels show remarkable characteristics in their creative techniques: although they give readers a realist impression, they also make people feel a bit avant-garde and weird after reading them. Presented through vivid characters one by one, the novel focuses on the combination of imagination, humor, critical spirit and real life, or writes about the absurdity of survival, or the complexity of human nature, or the impermanence of fate, all of which bring strong ideological impact and space for thinking to readers. Most of these novels tell "anti-traditional" stories with a traditional realist attitude, which is a concrete example of the author's novel style of "preferring modern writing".

This book is a collection of short and medium stories. The novel is more like the author's spiritual autobiography. Every character in the story is a fragment of the author's spirit. The stories in the novel collection touch more on the exploration of the physical body and personal spiritual dilemmas, and in the process of redemption and self-redemption, we find the possible path in the individual's heart. On the road of the heart and soul, there is a candlelight that illuminates the world of our lives in the darkness. We see countless roads in the text, but one of these roads is destined to lead to the soul and the author himself. It is the outlet of the author's soul. The author uses love and soul to continuously complete the transformation of the individual and gain a deep insight into the world.

This book is a collection of short and medium stories, consisting of 12 stories in total. It describes various distinctive characters such as a boy who dropped out of school, a college student who has just entered the society, a young woman who is entangled in love and hate, a father who is looking for a son, and an empty nester. The characters are complex and the stories are unique, depicting various situations at different stages of life. The works included in the collection are arranged according to the age of the characters, from teenagers to dead old people. They are rich in layers and span a wide time span, just like a condensed life note. The novel collection is carefully arranged and has a perfect sense of form, condensing the originally independent stories into a whole.

This book is a collection of short stories, including 20 excellent short stories. The subject matter involves rural areas, cities and other fields. The author uses delicate brushwork and compassionate feelings to write about the persistence and betrayal of the countryside, the vanity and anxiety of the city, and creates vivid characters in the novel. The stories are wonderful, the writing skills are sophisticated, and the emotions are delicate. The entered novels have been published in major literary journals across the country, and some have been selected for inclusion in various annual anthologies, attracting much attention in the literary world.

In the dream, the eagle under the cliff once again launched a sprint towards the thousand-meter-high cliff. When it flew about 800 meters high, its wings suddenly broke, and a green onion fell rapidly from mid-air. It hit the hard rock with a "bang" and blood and flesh splattered everywhere. Teacher Yin screamed and woke up from his dream dripping with sweat. When he was shocked, he looked outside the window and saw boundless darkness. I have had this dream for several days. Teacher Yin stroked his chest and prepared to get out of bed and pour a glass of water. As soon as she took a sip, she choked. Teacher Yin coughed violently, and she put the cup back on the table in frustration. She turned on her computer and prepared to video chat with her daughter in Singapore. There is a zero time difference between Singapore and China, which means that if it is 11pm in China, it will also be 11pm in Singapore. However, the living habits are a little different. In Singapore, where it is summer all year round, the sun does not get up until 7 a. M., So there are not many people at 8 a. M., Which is the same as at 6 a. M. In China.

The second itch is a goblin. This was what my grandma said as she rubbed her old cold legs. The conclusion drawn by the seventy-one-year-old grandma as she rubbed Lao Han's legs was often accurate. The reason why my grandma came to such cruel conclusions about Erchi was that something happened to Erchi, who was a senior in the International Trade Department of the Provincial University. I found out that something happened to Erchi on the second day after Zhang Chen and I got married. Early in the morning, my dad came to the door. Maybe it was because he didn't sleep well at night. My dad's face looked very bad, and the edges and corners on his thin face looked very unnatural. My dad was silent for a while and finally spoke. There was a trace of uneasiness on my father's face that could not be erased, like an unpredictable flame. My dad's voice seemed very distant, and he said, Something happened to Erchi.

This is a legend about Ban. Ben is eighteen years old this year. No father, no brothers, sisters, or any other relatives. There is only an old mother who is too old to be old. The old mother chatters all day long, always telling the class this and that. Today she said, "Look at so-and-so, he is only seventeen years old, younger than you. He has already become the Grand Sima of the State of Lu, and his salary is three thousand dan." Tomorrow she said, look at our neighbor So-and-so, he is only twenty years old this year, only two years older than you, but he has now written an epoch-making book, and more and more people are reading his books and believe in the principles he preaches. Yesterday she talked about it again. What was she talking about? It seems to be that a relative of a certain township party family abroad has made a fortune because of his business skills, and is planning to buy three cities in a certain country.

The phone rang. Ogawa's cell phone rang outside my door. At that time, I was lying on the bed tiredly, thinking wildly, and my thoughts were useless and useless. I have been in this state for a long time - this time is equal to the time when Ogawa was separated - but I still can't think of anything clearly. I was inexplicably angry and disgusted with myself, and wanted to slap myself twice in the mouth, when I heard Ogawa's footsteps, and then his voice answering the phone. I am familiar with his steps, and I am familiar with the sound of his big, thick hands twisting the door lock - of course, no one can twist this door lock except me and him. When the door lock is turned for the last turn, the key needs to be lifted slightly to open it. Only Ogawa and I know this trick - everything must be done from a good angle. Let's talk about that day.

People can never know what they want, because people can only live once, and they can neither compare it with previous lives nor modify it in the next life. When I woke up in the morning, the entire land was shrouded in white snow. The sun was shining yesterday, but the next night, why did it snow? This damn weather can change at any time, faster than a child's face. A whistle sounded far ahead of the school bell. All the friends were urgently summoned by Mike and gathered in a place called Big Stone Pan. The bell used in school during get out of class is made from a discarded automobile steel plate.

As soon as the sonorous singing voice flew out from the trumpet on the big locust tree and resounded over the eastern slope of Manling, Wang came to the courtyard of the temple. He had dressed himself up attentively, wearing a blue Mao suit commonly worn by city dwellers. The folded lines were straight and clear, his face was washed thoroughly, and even his hair was wet. Compared with Xian Changtu's appearance, he seems to be a completely different person. Today is the Qingming Festival, and more importantly, today is the day of the ceremony to demolish the temple in Getuo Village. As in previous years, when this solar term comes, the peach blossoms on the mountain are in full bloom, and the apricot blossoms in the village are also in full bloom, giving the whole village a mellow fragrance. But for Wang, this year's Qingming Festival came too quickly, and time seemed to rush past his body, and he fell into the morning light of this day with a bang. Obviously, the temple demolition movement has attracted more attention, and many people have gathered in Pingzi.

The Taihang Grand Canyon started to lose weight when we got here, so thin that only a thin beam was left. From a distance, the naked blue stones were hanging up and down the wall, surrounded by a few clouds, like a mule that had drained its strength. It was so thin that its ribs were hanging out one by one, and several families were hanging on it. The families on this beam usually don't have to shout when talking to the people above. Shouting is faster than walking. One shouted from the other side and the other answered from this side. The sound was carried far away through a deep ditch that was tens of meters straight up and down.

The sheep of the Boren family are water sheep, which are ewes. Water sheep is the term for northern Anhui. People in northern Anhui are very interesting. Except for chickens and dogs, which are divided into male and female, other animals have their own explanations. For example, the male is called Lao Jian or Yak, and the female is called La Niu. The male donkey is called donkey, and the female donkey is grass donkey. Of course, the mule must be distinguished from these animals. The mule is a hybrid. It does the most tiring work and produces the most strength. The people in northern Anhui have not given it another name. Regardless of whether it is a male or a female, it cannot give birth or raise. The Koreans say that a person has no ability and often use a idiom to describe him, saying that he is a mule - just a decoration.

Binhai University School of Law, where I taught before retiring, is about to celebrate its 60th anniversary. Publishing collections of past experts is part of the celebration activities. At dusk, a young man delivered a beautifully bound commemorative collection to my home. The weather forecast says there will be snow tonight, and if true, it will be the first snow this winter. Although anxious to get back, the young man told my nanny that he wanted to see me. Although I haven't had a visitor for many years, this dusk before the snowstorm made me feel uneasy for no apparent reason. "It can be regarded as killing time." With this thought, I slid the wheelchair away from the desk, adjusted the blanket covering my unconscious legs, and asked the nanny to invite the young man into my study. This is a kind-faced, pale and thin young man. The young man was wearing an old black woolen coat with short sleeves, revealing a pair of blue and white wrists with sharp joints.

There is a slum area next to the street in Samio City next to the stadium. The gray alleys that have no modern urban flavor are all simple low-rise bungalows or buildings built in the 1960s and 1970s. Most of the people living in them are former cement factory employees. This is a true urban ghetto. The cement factory closed down more than 20 years ago. Some of these employees and their families received meager compensation or pensions and relied on their own abilities to maintain the minimum living conditions in society. Others were just living in extreme despair. However, there is still no lack of original corporate affection between these old employees and their families. At the entrance of an alley closest to the intersection of the main road, there is a canteen built using the space at the bottom of the stairs and corridor, and it is also divided into inner and outer rooms.

I rejected the girls introduced to me by Fatty Qian again and again, but I never thought that she had also done his business and left a deep impression on him. I smashed beer bottle after beer bottle and screamed like a madman. I stumbled and walked aimlessly, ignoring the sharp horns of cars and the surprised looks of pedestrians, and unknowingly walked to the door of Xiao Ai's house. I kicked the door open with my foot, squeezed into the narrow living room, and called Xiao Ai, come out. Xiao Ai ran in front of me, frightened and didn't know what was happening. I grabbed Xiao Ai hard, shook her shoulders and asked, do you know Fatty Qian? Um! Do you know Fatty Qian? Um! Xiao Ai shook his head and stammered: "How do I know him? I don't know him."

Suzhen's abdomen was distended and painful, and she had been pregnant for two days. At first. I just felt that there was something like a lump of dough blocking it. Later, the dough slowly fermented and stretched. Gradually, my entire abdomen became swollen and painful. It is said that my stomach has been bloated and painful before, but the bloatedness was blatant. It felt like a round watermelon when touched, and made a sound like a cowhide drum when struck. The kind of pain is sharp and overwhelming. If you eat a pill of martin, drink a cup of intestinal tea, or swallow a few cloves of roasted garlic, you will belch a few mouthfuls of rancid gas, fart a few times, or at most have a violent diarrhea, and everything will be fine. Unlike now, when I felt as if I had swallowed a lump of pig iron, my belly felt flat and soft. The pain was even more gloomy, neither urgent nor slow, making people feel inexplicable and suffocated. Besides, I also ate martin, drank intestinal tea, and swallowed roasted garlic, but it was still blocked and swollen without any loosening.

At the clock tower of Beijing Railway Station, the minute hand jumped nervously, and a wonderful moment burst out to me: 5:10. 30 Minutes later, I could open the beige door. This was the moment when Yu Rong came home earlier than her husband and children. Yu Rong was the only one in the house. It was natural and even more charming than planned. When Yu Rong opened the door and saw me falling from the sky, her eyes lit up and she smiled brightly. Just like the row of neon lights at the tunnel entrance before exiting the station: "Welcome to Beijing." I must no longer hesitate or be gentle, I will spread my arms, hug her tightly without saying a word, hug her tightly, and protect her with all my strength. I will be unscrupulous and explosive, just like what she woke me up in her letter, I will burst out the volcano-like passion accumulated in my chest and melt her whole body in the magma.

Chen Dong walked out of the empty corridor of Liujian Guest House and walked downstairs alone. He stepped on the cement steps, and his leather shoes made a thumping sound on the floor. Surrounded by newly painted walls, there were specks of lime everywhere on the cement. Chen Dong didn't let himself step on those specks, but it was inevitable that he would step on a few. There was the smell of fresh lime in the corridor. This smell seemed familiar, and it suddenly took him to a certain time in the past. He walked downstairs into a flood-like humid weather. The trees were all dark green, the air was moist and slippery, and his face seemed to be covered with a layer of mist. When he touched it with his hands, his skin was extremely moist.

Four or five days after his father was arrested, Zhang Shutang and Xiaoye went to the house together and asked them to find Qingliu as family members of the victims. Because my grandfather suffered from mental illness, he was afraid that his words would be detrimental to the situation, so my mother had to intervene. Ono only knows a few words in Chinese that he can barely understand. Qingliu can only speak half a sentence without words. Ono first asked her mother if she could speak Russian. When she said no, Ono said that it was not convenient to talk, but Aoyagi spoke Russian very well. Since there is no common language, the first time they meet Aoyagi, Ono and Aoliu mainly talk.

Rumors about Ren Ruyi in Biandan Hutong and Spectacle Pit suddenly caused a stir throughout Renzhou City... The truth and falsehood were so hazy that it was hard to tell. But there is an indisputable fact: Ren Ruyi's home is in Biandan Hutong, Nanguan, Renzhou. He and his grandfather, Mr. Ren Er, were born and raised near the glasses pit. Let's talk about Biandan Alley first. The names of many streets and alleys in Renzhou City are closely related to their location, shape or function. For example, Chaishi Street and Tanhuo Alley used to specialize in selling firewood and charcoal; Bamboo Cane Alley specializes in selling various bamboo poles and bamboo strips utensils; Tianshui Alley is because there is a sweet water well in the alley; and Bellows Alley is home to several carpenters who make bellows... But Biandan Alley is different. Its name is not because there are people making or selling poles in the alley, but because it is thin and long and shaped like a pole.

The old man sighed and said very tiredly that the world has ruined the world, and he still has to take care of things. Well! I couldn't understand what he said. The old man waved his hand and asked me to take out ten yuan and stuff it into the bottom of my pelvis. Then, when he used the power again, he saw his palms flying up and down, the joints all over his body crackling, and his clothes also started to flutter. Then, with a loud shout, he stopped. I opened the basin, and this time, it was really surprising. The white paper turned black, and the money disappeared. On this sunny day, the old man can actually reverse black and white with just one hand? I couldn't believe my eyes.

Not many people in the small town have ever paid attention to Zhang Sibao, just like Zhang Sibao has never paid attention to them. Of course, this is all in the past. Now Zhang Sibao is a celebrity in the small town, or at least a prominent figure. The reason is very simple. Zhang Sibao is now rich, lavish, ostentatious, impressive, impressive, awesome and wealthy. When Zhang Sibao returned to the small town, he was riding in a Mercedes-Benz 600. He was accompanied by the beautiful assistant Yang Na, and behind him was the burly bodyguard Guangzi. This situation was an eye-opener for the people of the small town. Zhang Sibao's current identity is the chairman and general manager of a well-known "Emgrand Co., Ltd." In the provincial capital.

Chen Yiping looked proud, and I was startled. The world is changing so fast. If five years ago, no, as early as eight years ago, I began to have a secret love for Guyu, which marked the most painful path in my life, then at this moment I understood that my pain had great significance. If I have a fault in this love that has no beginning and no end, it is my poverty, but she also knows that poverty is not a sin, at least it is not my sin. Many years later, I read the novel "It Takes a Lifetime to Forget". The female writer Zhang Xin got straight to the point in her masterpiece, saying that the only good love in the world is the kind that never happens. My first love was a green apple, which never matured. It will always be placed in the period when I was thirteen to sixteen years old, like a still life sketch.

Xie Xiaohui is a Chinese junior college student from a poor family: his first love abandoned him; he wrote countless essays, poems, and novels, but he couldn't even get published in provincial magazines; He fell into a situation where there was desolation behind him and there was no way out in the future. At this moment, a teacher pointed out another "shortcut" for him. Faced with a choice, where should Xie Xiaohui go? Although Xie Xiaohui came from a poor family, he did not apply for G Normal University at that time. He filled out all the military academies at once, such as the Infantry Academy, the Artillery Academy, the Armored Forces Academy... The class teacher suggested that he attend the Normal University. Firstly, the Normal University did not have to pay tuition fees, which was consistent with his family background; secondly, he thought that Xie Xiaohui was eloquent and would be suitable to be a teacher.

The day for the annual departure of graduates has arrived. As I walked around the campus, the air was filled with separation sadness. Groups of people seeing him off surrounded the person who was about to leave and walked toward the school gate. Someone in the team couldn't help it anymore and cried. These companions who used to get along day and night are now facing a separation. They may never have the opportunity to get together like this again. How can they not be sad and melancholy when the world ends tomorrow? The classmate who was leaving first was holding a heavy box in his hand, which contained everything he had earned over the past four years. It's time to hit the road, use this income to exchange for a good future. But where the road is, maybe I don't know yet. But there is no way, the farewell bell has already sounded.

Weasels and mice are getting worse every generation. My mother sat in the dim light and sighed. In the halo of lights, there are still me and my father. We sat under a dim foreign oil lamp and listened to my mother talk about the past. My mother was talking about the history of our He family, mainly about my grandfather's past. As a result, people related to my grandfather also jumped into the halo from my mother's mouth one by one. Logically speaking, the person who has the most say in family history is my father. But my father was a man of few words. Although he knew the family history well, he, like me, became my mother's silent audience. Occasionally, I will add a sentence or two. My mother glanced at my father from time to time, with a smile on her lips. Your grandfather has thick eyebrows, big eyes, wide mouth and thick lips. He is 1.78 Meters tall and his spine is as straight as an iron plate.

Whether I sang or not, I don't remember. I just remember that it was a poorly soundproofed room, and the eyes of the boy and his buddy were full of dreams. My story is over. I looked at Dr. Lu. Doctor Lu seemed to still have something to say. He paused and said, "Don't worry, I will cure you -" Before he could finish his sentence, I was already standing next to him and kissed his cheek. "The sunset is so beautiful." When I left, Dr. Lu still looked at me in astonishment. In a few days, I will go to Florence in a few days. Suddenly, I remembered that when I was a child, I saw a dog in the sunset, raising its golden legs towards a tree.

Anhao is basically a normal person. His father, Lao Anzi, was originally normal, but after being hit, he changed a bit. Lao Anzi is a barber at the barber shop in the service courtyard of the 923 Factory Office in Huimin District. Most of the customers he receives every day are oil workers who live nearby. Before coming to serve the compound, Lao Anzi was farming in his hometown in Bin County and was the second brother of a farmer. Every time a greasy-stained old man came into the store, Lao Anzi would never forget to say with a smile: "Learn from you." Lao Anzi's craftsmanship was good, and the customers were naturally very satisfied, but before leaving, Lao Anzi would always add: "For the people." Service." As time went by, the customers seemed to feel sorry for themselves, and jointly submitted a petition for merit to the barber shop manager. Lao Anzi was a model for the barber shop, just like the model who served the courtyard grain store, vegetable store, department store, and clothing store, and was very respectable.

About the author: Liu Changqing was born in 1965 in Boketu Town, Yakeshi City, Inner Mongolia. His parents died young, and as the eldest son, he took the place of his deceased father on the railway at the age of fifteen, and later became a train driver. After finally trying to be a decent person, he married his childhood sweetheart, a girl who suddenly suffered from mental illness. I am grateful to my own eyes, which have allowed me to establish a life-hungry iron-blooded alliance with books since the days of comic books; I am also grateful to my unfortunate fate, which left me with profound thoughts on literature after every overdraft of life. As a result, works such as "Meadow Wolf", "Railway Through the Jungle", "Red Thorn", and "Mountain Falcon Golden Feather" were released one after another. Whether climbing the grid or typing on the keyboard, I gradually built my own spiritual paradise and cultural character with the rewards of type. He is currently a member of the Inner Mongolia Writers Association and a director of the Hulunbuir City Writers Association.

In the blink of an eye, I am already forty-six years old, and I have passed the age of sentimentality, but why is this luxurious disease of sentimentality attacking me again and again? Zhou Yulou felt painful for his mentality, and even hated it. Sentiment is so proudly entrenched in his heart, and Zhou Yulou's reckoning with this emotion is even more uncomfortable than being immersed in sentimentality, just like a guy who always suffers from insomnia. In fact, most of his troubles do not come from insomnia itself, but because he spends most of his thoughts complaining that he has insomnia. Yulou wants to get rid of sentimentality as soon as possible, because it is extremely inconsistent with his identity and career. I was supposed to be the one who helped others get rid of sentimentality, but now I am still drowning in the whirlpool of sentimentality, large and small.

After Lao Xian's funeral shed was set up, my friend Zhang Ruya wrote an elegiac couplet and asked me to hang it for Lao Xian. At the same time, he told me to bury the fragments of the pot and the backgammon set that Lao Xian often played with Lao Xian. The first couplet of the elegiac couplet is "Drink leisurely tea from a pot", the second couplet is "Wallets are played freely", and the horizontal line is "That's all". While walking on Dingshan Old Street, I stopped for a long time in front of an old house. On the door hung the nameplate of a renowned pot-making master, who was the grandfather of my friend Zhang Ruya. I returned from the Kingdom of Purple Clay empty-handed. It was not that I didn't like the pot, but that I had no desire to buy it. The enamel jar I had at home with the words "Grasp the Revolution, Promote Production" was hot enough for me to drink tea. My friend Zhang Ruya was all expected. He said that you were always thinking about the beautiful purple sand. The last sound of sadness made you escape.

Meicheng is a Jiangnan city with many ancient architectural treasures. In order to protect these ancient architectural treasures from being demolished by developers, the Three Hermits of Meicheng: writer Liu Qingteng, painter Feng Ailian and calligrapher Zhou Yanghe jointly wrote a letter to the mayor, but received a threatening anonymous phone call. They did not flinch, they held hands and stood in front of the bulldozer with dignity, and the conflict suddenly reached a climax...

About the author: Jing Yi is a national first-class writer and the president of China Ethnic Audio and Video Publishing House. He is the author of long reportages "Golden Himalayas", "Grand Canyon of the East", "Festivals and Survival", collections of short stories and short stories "Who Has Beautiful Red Nails", "The Woman Riding a Fish", "White Moon" and essays. He won the 2nd and 4th National Award for Outstanding Novels and Collections of Ethnic Minority Literary Creation; the screenwriter's TV series "The Ancient Tea Horse Road" and "Golden Phoenix Blossoms" were broadcast in prime time on CCTV, and won the 10th "Five Ones" Project Award; the large-scale documentary "The Ancient Tea Horse Road" as the main creator won the 21st Starlight Award, and "Chinese Nation" won the 2nd China Publishing Government Award.

About the author: Wang Song, male, is a member of the Chinese Writers Association, a first-class writer, and currently works for the Tianjin Writers Association. He has published a large number of short stories and novels in various domestic literary magazines. He is the author of many novels such as "No Love in Spring" and "The Street of Falling Wind", and published a self-selected collection of novellas "Sunshine Like Smoke". He was nominated for the first Tianjin Young Writers Creation Award and won the second Tianjin Young Writers Creation Award. Niu Xiangdong told me not to believe the teacher. He said that what teachers say may not always be right. From today's perspective, this is just a kind of personality, with at least a little sense of independence, but it was a different story more than thirty years ago. It was called "going against the trend" at that time.

Teacher Dong's temper has been particularly difficult to deal with these days. He gets angry easily and seems to have become a little smaller all of a sudden. The town is small after all, and Teacher Dong's story has been widely spread in the town. That is: Teacher Dong ruthlessly drove his wife Shaobing and daughter Dong Xiao out of the house. For a long time, people have said that Teacher Dong's daughter Dong Xiao looks neither like Teacher Dong nor like Teacher Dong's wife Shaobing. Teacher Dong is a very easy-going person. He has never blushed with others, let alone made a move. One thing he did that day was to angrily saw the big bed at home from the middle. He was sweating profusely in the house and sawed the big yellow painted bed "creeping, creaking" for a long time, and then dragged the sawed big bed from the house to the outside. Half of the bed only had two legs, so he had to put it against the wall outside the door.

Once upon a time, "prodigy" education was all the rage across the country. If we go back to the end of the Cultural Revolution and the early days of the college entrance examination, who doesn't know about Ning Bo and the Youth Class of the University of Science and Technology of China? During that period, the Ningbos almost became the heroes of the era for hundreds of millions of young students and their parents. Parents who hope their children will succeed and their daughters will succeed even more hope that their children can become child prodigies like Ning Bo. How many years have passed, where are Ning Bo, Xie Yanbo and other former "prodigies" today? Have the "prodigies" trained by many university youth classes later become all-powerful social elites?

The sharp wind made the one-eyed captain fail to light his pipe despite several strokes. After losing a few matches, he, who was already very angry, got angry and slapped the beef next to him on the buttocks. Niu turned around and gouged out the captain's eyes for no apparent reason. The captain said: "Fuck! Even if you, a bear cloud, fell down and made a hole in the ground, I would still be harvesting it." Of course, the cow didn't know that the captain was cursing the sky, but it almost understood that the captain's scolding had little to do with itself. During the autumn vacation, we school children also have to go to the production team to work seriously with the adults. We are used to the captain's scolding. After finally staying up until lunch time, Lao Liu and I ran home crazily even more than we were hungry.

Li Mingqi said: The south, the south is a great place. Do you still want me to be the workshop director for him? Why do you talk so much today? What Ma Bo didn't expect was that as Li Mingqi spoke, he had already grabbed Ma Bo's collar. In all these years, Ma Bo had never seen Li Mingqi look like this. The ferocious-looking Li Mingqi had red bloodshot eyes, and he looked like he could eat people. Marble stepped back and yelled, "What are you going to do?" Director Li, what are you going to do? Li Mingqi then shouted loudly: Director Sun, you Director Sun! Ma Bo said: I am not Director Sun, not Director Sun! Who are you? Then who will you be? Someone has already answered the call: Who is this?

Houjie, whose original name is Huang Jianlong, male, is an employee of Fujian Nanping Aluminum Co., Ltd., A member of Nanping Writers Association, and an editorial board member of "Yanping Literature". His main works are scattered in publications such as "Fujian Literature" and "Quanzhou Literature", and some of his works are included in series such as "Famous Chinese Neo-Confucian Countries" and "Impressions of Wu Yanping". Arhat has a habit of squatting in the patio to brush his teeth when the sky is slightly bright, and the sound of gargling and spitting water is terrifyingly loud. While brushing, he looked at his treasure, a dozen pots of wild orchids dug deep in the mountains. Early morning is the breakfast time for orchids to eat dew. The patio is open to the sky, and the earth's atmosphere is connected. The dew is slightly bright, like translucent dust, floating in the morning light, looming, orchids can see it, and the Arhat can also see it. He remembers which mountain stream and ridge each orchid here comes from.

In the year of Ding Chou, I spent an unforgettable eighteenth birthday on the Sino-Indian border. Anil, the Indian colonel on the other side of the barbed wire, gave me a mysterious gift. The wind at Tawang Pass is very lonely, but the sentry stationed here is not lonely, just a little bored. Because that war forgotten by history gradually faded from people's memory. However, the border situation is still not very stable, and NEFA (Southern Tibet) continues to become the focus of international media. I noticed that Anil was an Indian military colonel who didn't need to be too vigilant. He was wearing a dark-colored nylon jacket, and his horsehide boots had lost their luster in the company of sunshine and snowflakes. His jet-black hair must have been waxed, and he was more handsome than the leading actor in the movie "The Wanderer." He clasped his hands together, sat on the grass and closed his eyes to meditate. At dusk, I saw him holding a newspaper in his hand, and the green smoke in his pipe was like cow dung burning Deji grass.

Zhao Youhou had a dream during the day. The whole scene of Zhao Youhou's dream about Nana was a bit confusing, and the fragments were not very clear - Zhao Youhou ate two bowls of dumplings in a dumpling shop. When he came out and passed by Wang Mazi Snack Shop, he suddenly heard someone calling him. Turning around, he saw Nana standing at the door of Wang Mazi Snack Shop with two empty plates. Zhao Youhou smiled at Nana in surprise, and Nana put down the plate in her hand and walked over... Suddenly, the location was no longer in front of Wang Mazi Snack Shop on Food Street, but next to a telephone pole on Miner Street. He leaned against the telephone pole, his eyes timidly watching Nana's breasts trembling as she walked toward him. His heart was pounding wildly, and he opened his mouth, but he didn't know what to say. Nana walked up to him and said, "Hello, Xiao Zhao!"

A few days later, Monk Wu Yuan suddenly came to the house again. This time, he came to visit Yunhai, and secondly, he told Yunhai's family that in recent days, when he went to several villages in the east to beg for alms, he overheard a situation, saying that the two gangsters who kidnapped Yunhai had been operating in the area beyond Shanhaiguan for a long time. They were not Chinese, but Japanese pirates. Yunhai's family was shocked after hearing this. Yunhai's father said: "I once heard from Mr. Fang, my in-law, about the Japanese. Since the end of the Yuan Dynasty, the Japanese have been harassing Chinese territory along the southeast coast. The Chinese call them Japanese pirates. It seems that the days to come will not be very peaceful."

They are all still babies, have you harmed (Northern Shaanxi dialect: understand)? You said that time... When I came to Nianziwan with black hair and sweat, I blocked Gao Fuliang by the stone mill in front of his house, and asked him about some past events from forty years ago, the usually optimistic Gao Fuliang was in a dilemma. He even avoided my eyes, lowered his head and fiddled with the brass suona in his hand. His ten thick fingers, like frightened grass snakes, flicked aimlessly in the suona's eyes. Apparently, my inquiry caused him to sink into memories... The memories made his brows wrinkle. He instinctively opened his mouth, slowly sucked the suona, and roared "Woo-wah" toward the loess under his feet, then raised it up again and continued to play toward the blue and bright sky. Now Gao Fuliang has gray hair.

Tang Wei didn't talk anymore. He looked back and saw that Doudou was still sleeping on the seat, still holding her favorite bright green octopus tightly in her arms. Tang Wei thought that this time she not only saw real horses and real cows for the first time, but also saw real robbers. She must be very happy. In the past, when she saw robbers in fairy tale books, she always asked what the robber looked like. Today she finally knew. Of course, she will know more in the future that she doesn't know but there are things in this world.

I felt tired when I got in the car. I pulled on the armrest and my thoughts were tired. It was hot, there were so many people, the bus was packed like a sardine can, and there was a smell of rotten pears that was unbearable. Outside the window, the streets in the sunshine receded. With no other choice, I closed my eyes. Close your eyes, home is close. Recently, whenever I close my eyes, my hometown will be clearly reflected in my mind. What's going on? There is no answer. I always feel like there is a hand that keeps pulling and pulling, and many old things are being pulled out one by one. More often, I can even smell the sweet sunshine in my hometown.

Following the albums from Qinghai, Sichuan and Gansu, "Tibetan Literature" has launched an album by Yunnan writers this time. This has been a long-standing wish of the editorial board of "Tibetan Literature". They hope that through this purely literary publication, they can show the tremendous changes that have taken place in Tibetan areas and people in other provinces under the leadership of the Communist Party of China. In the form of literature, with the ups and downs of the characters' fate, with the changes of the times as the background, and with artistic techniques, readers can feel their living conditions and spiritual world. This album selects the novel "Shark Locks the Water" by Naxi writer Cai Xiaoling. The writer uses his keen artistic sense to construct for us the darkness and light of human nature hidden behind the construction of modern material civilization; Yang Jinlam uses "Love Dance" to reproduce the folk customs of Yunnan Tibetan areas for readers, and reflects on the love pain caused by traditional "love dance" to his fathers.