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When my aunt was fifty-one years old, she found something abnormal in her stomach. She thought it was a tumor, so she went to the commune health center for a checkup. The doctor touched the cyst a few times, took a pulse, and then laughed and said, "This poor and lower-middle peasant aunt, you are not sick, but you are born with pearls from the mussel!" My aunt was uneducated and didn't understand the idiom, so she was a little unhappy. It was true that I was from the old gang, but how could I give birth to pigs? I didn't do that with the shameless egg (that is, the boar)! He slammed the door and walked away angrily. After thinking about it, he woke up again and went to ask his uncle for credit. My aunt struggled all her life to give birth to a child with a pot handle. Unfortunately, all eleven children were short of two ounces of flesh. She thought that there would be nothing left for her until the end of time, but she didn't want to end up with a baby.

On the elevator of a building in Central, Hong Kong, Director General of Foreign Economic Affairs Liu Ke accepted 40,000 Hong Kong dollars from a Hong Kong businessman. After that, the difficulties encountered by Hong Kong businessmen in the process of investing in the county were solved one by one. Not long after, something happened. Liu Keke's beloved wife died unexpectedly, and her death was deeply related to this project of a Hong Kong businessman... Years later, things have changed and Liu Keke has been promoted. What force drove him to where he is today? The 40,000 Hong Kong dollars were taken in the elevator. At that time, Liu Keke was having a dinner party in a building in Central, Hong Kong. The Hong Kong Fellows Association bid farewell to Liu Keke and his party. The person who came forward was the president, surnamed Wang. Lu Jinhua is the vice president. He promised to come, but he arrived half an hour late. By that time, everyone had already started eating.

The taxi had to park at the back door because the front door didn't open. The front door belonged to Yu's grandmother and no one could enter or exit at will. I still don't understand why everyone calls her Grandma Yu. In fact, she has not yet become a grandmother. Her husband died long ago, leaving only a daughter in her thirties who was not yet married and rarely came home. But everyone still calls her Grandma Yu, as if she is not afraid of not being a grandmother as long as she has a daughter. Grandma Yu's family lived in seclusion. No one was allowed to enter her room, and she rarely talked to others. Besides, the front door was the main room of her house, so it was not convenient for people to use it as the corridor. Only the back door belongs to everyone. Entering through the back door is the stove room. Six families in one building were all crowded in to cook. Everyone has to go through the back door to enter their own room, including the Yu family's grandmother. In this way, the front door loses its function as a door. Grandma Yu simply put a decorative glass cabinet in front of the door, which gave the room a lot more practical area.

The night before the reelection plan was submitted to the Party Committee for discussion, Ji Pingzhang, member of the Standing Committee of the Party Committee and Organization Minister of Tunghai University, stayed up all night. The plan is not thorough enough and perfect enough! If this plan is implemented, some middle-level cadres who were originally qualified for their original positions will have to be adjusted because their terms have expired, but they care about their current positions very much, just like Baiyun is used to the mountain he relies on. If he wants it to float out of the mountain, even if it is facing a broader sky, it will feel at a loss and would rather stay in the mountain to relax. Therefore, the difficulty of adjustment is certainly not small. This is one of them.

"The Wall Along the Yellow River" is the signed work of Yue Zhandong, the fourth contracted writer of Shanxi University of Literature. Since 2005, the author has visited more than a dozen counties (banners) in Beijing, Inner Mongolia, Hebei, Shaanxi, Shanxi and other places where the Great Wall of the Ming Dynasty is located, inspected and visited many Ming Great Wall sites, and learned and mastered first-hand original field materials of the Great Wall of the Ming Dynasty. He also conducted in-depth and detailed research on a large number of related books. On this basis, focusing on the 140-mile Yellow River border wall from Laoniu Bay in Pianguan County to Hequ County in Shanxi Province as a clue, the history of the construction of the Great Wall in 276 years of the Ming Dynasty and the formation of the frontier fortress culture were investigated and detailed, and a creative framework was constructed to write about the Great Wall from the "camp", highlight the historical background through historical figures and historical events, and describe the frontier fortress culture based on the author's experience. After more than two years of creation, "The Wall Along the Yellow River" has been completed, and this magazine will start to select it from this issue for the readers' pleasure.

Recently, Lao Huang always likes to stand on the balcony for a while. The building he lives in is at the end of the family area, close to the wall. There is a railway outside the wall, which used to be a dedicated line for several factories along the line. Nowadays, these factories have been moved from place to place, and the railways have long been abandoned, and the rails are gradually rusting. Beyond the railway, there is a large wasteland with some temporary vegetable gardens and a few small ponds. Except for a few limited vegetable gardens and ponds, the wasteland is covered with wormwood that is half as tall as a man. Past the wasteland is a newly built community for farmers to return home, with some dense buildings. Lao Huang lives on the sixth floor and has a wide view. When the weather is good, he can see the people in that community moving like match heads. Lao Huang got tired of standing on the balcony and liked to light a cigarette. Especially after dinner, I would stand for an hour or two, burning four or five cigarettes.

The sheep lazily walked onto the hot spring path and stopped. The sun had already set, but Deyang still felt the woman's long black and thick hair reflected in the sunlight. She had slender legs and a slender waist, standing in front of the hot spring guest house with her back to the sheep. She never looked back, as if she was talking to someone inside. The sheep got impatient and took another step towards a hut surrounded by mountains and rivers. This is the home of nun Renjeram. The master had been away for more than ten days, and the house was deserted. Deyang felt the pottery cup and felt it was completely cold. After dinner, Deyang came to the hot spring guest house and met the waiter. Deyang said, it's too cold at home, can you make me some cow dung fire? The waiter couldn't understand the Lhasa language and stared blankly. Later, he raised his hand and Ladeyan entered.

I moved to Qinglongyuan Courtyard and met Fatty Shi. Fatty Shi was rumored to be one way or another in people's reputation. Some said he smoked heavy cigarettes, while others said he had been arrested by the Public Security Bureau. But in the end, the position of director of the neighborhood committee belonged to him. After being introduced by a friend, I moved to a residential compound called Qinglongyuan. This courtyard is very small, with no gardens or lawns, and a total of eight buildings that are irregular and cramped. There was originally a guard room designed at the entrance of the courtyard, but it seemed that there had never been a guard. The two huts were used as small shops selling tobacco, alcohol and candies, and a linoleum tent was set up outside the eaves, with large items such as brooms, mops, coal stoves and plastic pots, buckets and pots placed in a messy mess.

In 1975, both people's hearts and society seemed to be less sleepy than during the day. Once after nine o'clock in the evening, people are really fast asleep. In the streets and alleys of Shanghai, whether it is an old garden house from the 1940s, an American-style apartment from the 1930s, or a Shikumen lane from the 1920s, the wooden houses painted with brown-red paint from the 1900s gradually emit the animal-like body odor of a depressed and disappointed body sleeping. The deep and lonely sleep floated heavily like night fog on the streets, covering the whole city. Three years ago, Burnstone, the American translator of Mao Zedong's poems, returned from a visit to Shanghai and expressed his opinion that Chinese bodies have no sense of identity at all. They are so calm, like mountains and rivers in nature.

"Go now?" "Go now!" "You haven't considered it?" "You haven't considered it!" He wanted to say something, but when he heard his son's cold and decisive tone, Genwang had to stop talking. He was a bit stunned by how well his son was dressed today. The crisp suit alone was enough to make him stunned. It's more than five hundred yuan. If you use it to buy millet, how many tons can you buy? A hill-like pile. Of course, my son earned the money by smashing it into pieces with sweat. No matter how old-fashioned I am, I won't care too much about small things like clothing. However, now is far from the time to show off. Everything is still in the palm of others' hands. Showing off is definitely not a good thing for you. But Hui Zi just couldn't listen to this and just followed her own temper.

After the tour bus entered the Datong section along National Highway 109, the passengers hurriedly pulled up the windows. The speed of the car also slowed down significantly, and the road was crowded with large trucks hauling coal everywhere. Those beast-like vehicles have huge fronts and wheels that are taller than a person. The drivers of the local illegal motorcycles walked flexibly along the side of the large car, and they passed without any danger every time. Yungang closed the book and glanced at the gray scenery outside. The self-built simple houses on both sides of the national highway are stacked on top of each other and spread crookedly up the mountain. I was a little tired, so I took out the cigarette case, and there was only one cigarette left in it. After lighting up the cigarette and taking a long breath, Yungang looked outside in a daze. Traffic jam again.

Zhao Yanfei graduated from the Chinese Department of Hunan Normal University. She has worked as a teacher and journalist. She has published several short and medium-length novels in "Yalu River", "Flower City", "Yanhe", "West Lake", "Guangzhou Literature", "Foshan Literature", "Urban Novels", "Youth", etc. The novel "Ma Orchid Blooms" was excerpted by "Liaohe·Wonderful Reading". She cooperated with Hunan Satellite TV and Hunan Science and Technology Press to publish the full-length TV literature "Metamorphosis". She is now the editor of "Literary Circle" magazine. Su Die stared straight at the line. That line came from nothing, from a faint water stain to a faint hint of pink, and then gradually from pink to bright red. Every time the blush deepened, her heart sank. Finally, she collapsed next to the toilet. I don't know how many times I have tested the paper.

Sun Benlin walked down from the soft-seat carriage and saw the city's leader coming to pick him up, Zhang Keying, the deputy secretary of the municipal party committee in charge of the city in Yi County. Zhang Keying was brought up from the position of Propaganda Minister of the Municipal Party Committee. At the Provincial Literary Congress, Zhang Keying, as the leader of the city, had dealt with Sun Benlin, and they were quite familiar with each other. Sun Benlin hesitated for a moment and fell behind the others. The city leaders shook hands with the people in front of them and introduced the leaders they knew to each other. At this time, Zhang Keying saw Sun Benlin hiding behind, stretched out his hand and said, "Chairman Sun, why are you standing behind? Don't you want to meet us?" After Zhang Keying said this, Sun Benlin felt a little embarrassed and hurriedly stepped forward to hold Zhang Keying's hand and said, "Oh, Secretary Zhang, it's not my turn yet."

In 1955, I was 9 years old. Because I was hospitalized for surgery for congenital heart disease, the doctor issued a certificate requiring me to take a one-year leave of absence from school. In March, after the first spring rain, my father stopped a carriage in an alley, went to the Municipal Children's Hospital in Yuetan, and took me back to my home on Dongsi North Street. The fare cost more than one yuan, which made my mother feel distressed. My house seems smaller than before. The windows were polished by my grandma. The blue plaid sheets were so neat that there were no wrinkles. The sun shone in through the glass windows. Everything was new. My father carried me into the house and carefully put me on the bed as if he were putting a fragile object. I sat on the edge of the bed and looked up at my father, mother, and grandma. The same word was written in their eyes: worry.

Li Zhibang was born in Tianjin in May 1953 and is a native of Anping County, Hebei Province. He joined the army in 1970 and transferred to work in Tianjin Mass Art Museum in 1978. Research librarian, member of the Chinese Writers Association, contracted writer of the Tianjin Writers Association School of Literature, and outstanding expert of the Ministry of Culture. Published three novels "Escape from Loneliness", "City Hunter" and "Falling Flowers", and a collection of essays "The Beautiful Woman I Like". There are more than 100 novellas and more than 100 short stories. In 2002, he was nominated for the Tianjin Young Writers Award. The TV series "Boundless" he co-produced won the "Five One Project Award" of the Central Propaganda Department. The non-scene drama "Song of Hope" won the silver medal of the "Star Award" of the Ministry of Culture; the four-act drama "Next Stop Happiness"; the three-episode radio drama "We Workers" won the silver medal of the National Radio Drama "Government Award". The sketch "Encounter" he created won the silver medal in the National Drama Sketch Competition. His works have been selected for many times by "Selected Novels", "Novel Monthly", "Selected Novellas", "Xinhua Digest", "Writers' Digest", etc. Zhang Malai, director of the Provincial Daily News Department, is under forty years old. He is a typical Chinese intellectual. Some people say that he looks very much like Qu Qiubai. He has crossed eyes, a fair face, and relatively high cheekbones, which suddenly shows the sourness of a scholar.

Choi Hee was born in Seoul in 1953. Graduated from the Korean Literature Department of Sogang University and Dongdae College. PhD in French Literature from the University of Provence, France. Currently, he is a professor at the French Department of Sogang University. In 1988, he entered the literary world with the novel "A Flower Leaf Quietly Falls" published in "Literature and Society". Published collections of works include "You Are No Longer You", "A Flower Leaf Quietly Falling", etc. Won the "Dongren Literature Award"; won the 18th "Lixiang Literature Award" for ""Hanakou" is not there". There are also important works such as "Dad Watches", "You Are No Longer You", "A Flower and Leaf Withered in Silence", etc. It had been about twenty years, and the past of that period came to my mind as clearly as a stage with flashing lights. Every time I think back to that time, a dark green picture always comes to my mind.

The novel starts from the protagonist's boyhood and uses the first person to narrate a series of events experienced by the protagonist Niu Liren. This series of events is inseparable from the word "bad" pointed out in the title of this book. It is in this kind of life experience that the protagonist of this book continues to grow. Similar to "The Catcher in the Rye", this book also contains anger and anxiety, while at the same time it has a profound and delicate analysis and description of the characters' hearts. In the end, they all point to the inner world of a young man, and at the same time have a realistic projection of the external society. I hope this book can also bring spiritual comfort to countless hesitant young people.

Sometimes, cash on hand can feel a little tight, which means it's time to pay attention to making ends meet again this month. My wife then lamented why it was so difficult to make money, and asked me how some people could make so much money so easily. At this time, I often showed a weird smile, tried my best to suppress the teasing tone, and said with a very regretful expression: "What a pity, at that time you had to marry a wholesaler on the ground in Taijiang. If you don't spend money like water, at least you won't be stretched. Is there anything you can do? What about marrying a schoolteacher? Accept your fate. God, please forgive us. We are either too poor or a little greedy and want to be able to make money easily. We all became money-obsessed at some point, right?

For historical figures, I think there are at least three points that can arouse the interest of future generations in research: first, it depends on what role he played in the process of history; second, it depends on what he did at a critical moment in history; third, it depends on what he left for future generations. From these three aspects, Gao Changhong is worthy of our in-depth study. Gao Changhong was born on February 12, 1898 in Xigou Village, Qingcheng Town, Yu County, Shanxi Province. In 1921, when he was 23 years old, his father Gao Hongyou asked him to find something to do to make money to support the family, but he insisted on going his own way, so his father said something that hurt Changhong's self-esteem: "My food is not for idle people."

In the snowy area of ​​mid-August, the night rain continued, making the mountaintops shrouded in clouds and mist in the early morning. There were cars coming and going on the asphalt road, and the roar of two walking tractors resounded throughout the land. The front tractor bed contained brand-new furniture, which was securely secured by a long rope. The driver was a middle-aged man in his fifties, wearing a black jacket and a black top hat. He was driving intently, with his eyes wide open, exuding a sense of confidence and arrogance. Following closely behind him was his eldest son, driving another walk-behind tractor. Bedding, straw mats, pots and pans were piled in the compartment, as well as a cow dung stove. There were two people sitting on the straw mat of the carriage. One was a woman about forty-five years old, the wife of the middle-aged man. She was wearing a dark brown Tibetan robe, her hair was pulled into a bun, and she had a happy smile on her plump round face. She looked back at her youngest son, Nima, from time to time.

The doorbell rang loudly, and I looked outside through the peephole. There was a shaking blur outside, as chaotic as fog. When I finally figured out that the blurry eye was a human eye peering in from the other end of the cat's eye, I was so scared that I took a few steps back and took a breath of air. After retirement, I live alone in Beijing. I belong to the series of empty-nesters. The issue of public security cannot be ignored. Although I have no money and no sex, it is still a worrying thing. Looking in from the peephole, there is definitely no reason. This person is lying on his stomach and looking in, trying to figure out what is going on in the room. He either has an ulterior motive or is out of his mind. I waited for the big eye to leave at the other end of the cat's eye, but that eye just flickered and refused to leave. I asked who it was, but there was no response and no eyes left. I asked again who it was, and there was a squeaking sound outside the door, like a rat.

I have been asked many times, "Among the cities you have visited, which one is your favorite?" This seemingly simple question is difficult to answer, because I have visited hundreds of famous Chinese and foreign cities. Then one day, I got inspiration and slowly wrote a book "Counting from A to Z: My Favorite City". In other words, I chose twenty-six cities. Here we share with you five of them, borrowing their names from the Brics. Reasons for Barcelona (Barcelona) being selected: It is both the pride of Iberia and a heartache of the Spaniards; it is rich in football geniuses and painting masters, but it attracts tourists from all over the world with its unique architectural style. Time of travel: Summer 1995.

It's a good rain: in mid-spring, it's like smoke, drifting down silently. And everything that is shrouded: banyan trees, eucalyptus trees, palm trees, phoenix trees, bougainvillea and water lilies, green grass, cobblestone roads, boulders, sculptures, pavilions, bridges and archways, are looming, yet wet and transparent. Everything becomes hazy because of the rain, and everything becomes bright because of the hazyness. All the dust disappears in the rain, and all the restlessness stops in the rain. Leaving behind a rich green, a pure blue, and a clean mood. The washed soul flies out of the body and dances lightly in the rain. The news of spring is everywhere, and the rhythm of vigorous life is everywhere.

It was almost midnight again, and the office door opened with a loud bang, and then I heard a thump of footsteps walking in. The left and right feet were of different weights and speeds. I know that Mr. Mike O'Neill, the company's boss, is here again, and he has drunk a lot. This is not the first time Mr. O'Neill has come to the office in the middle of the night. I have only been working in the company for a few months and I have met him three times. This is the fourth time. I quickly bent over and opened the bottom drawer on the right hand side of my desk, and took out an unopened bottle of Wuliangye. "Hello, Pat!" Mr. O'Neill came to my little cubicle and greeted loudly. I went to the United States to study in college and gave myself the English name Patrick.

A mosquito intervened in my life like a ghost. At first, I didn't mind it very much. It wasn't until it made my life cluttered that it attracted my attention. I am a professional poet and have published eight books of poetry. Although they were all self-published, which cost me a lot of printing fees, this did not affect my popularity in this city. Everyone knows that my real name is Lang Yihao and my pen name is Yihao. I feel like a lonely urban wolf, trying to wake people up from their desires through howling. In the beginning, writing poetry was just a hobby of mine. My profession was once a bank clerk, counting money in the sales department. Gradually, I discovered that counting money and writing poetry were two very conflicting professions - counting money killed the inspiration for many of my poems.

Dear classmates and friends, good evening! Today's speech is specially prepared for you, which means that I do not intend to repeat any speech I have given before. At the same time, we strive to have a certain pertinence in this speech. But I only knew two characteristics of the audience in advance: one was that the audience were all girls, and the second was that everyone was probably around 20 years old, so the relevance of my speech was based on these two attributes. Finally, I chose a topic like this, which is weird, called "Return to Family, Study and Live". Maybe it's a bit challenging to talk about this topic here. The content of the speech is a bit advanced, but everyone is around 20 years old and has a long future. A little more advanced thinking may help everyone cope with the changing life in the future society. The speech consists of four parts.

The project is still half finished, and these people with the surname Guan are about to leave. The boss advised them to be cautious. Only by completing the remaining half can they get the other two-thirds of their wages. Guan Changjiang said calmly that there was something wrong in the family and there was nothing we could do about it. Guan Changjiang is the leader of this group of people with the surname Guan. He is not the eldest, but he has the highest seniority. He is either a grandfather or an uncle. The boss settled the bill with Guan Changjiang and the others, and told them to come back after finishing their family affairs. The boss likes this group of migrant workers named Guan. They are united and honest and work hard. The boss is a profiteer, but he never dares to abandon his conscience in front of this group of people with the surname Guan. In fact, when they first took over the project, Guan Changjiang and the others knew that the project would not be completed because it was estimated that they would have to return to the village in October. Guan Changjiang and the others returned to the village to dig tunnels. This tunnel has been built for four hundred years, and the target is the other side of the mountain. The other side of the mountain is too far away. This mountain seems to be a magic mountain that can never end.

There is no doubt that except for the county towns where Han, Qiang, and Hui residents in the upper reaches of the Fujiang River live together, as well as the Baima people who wear Saga hats made of white wool felt, usually with one or two white rooster feathers stuck on their heads, and wear bright national costumes, and still maintain their own tribal customs and habits, Jiangyouguan, which has a long history and culture and beautiful scenery, can be regarded as the most prosperous town in the fault zone. Some locals who have traveled far and seen a little bit of the world call it the "Little Hong Kong" in the fault zone. The same thing can always be expressed differently by different people.

In the days approaching the New Year's Eve, Shui Hao was so busy that his desire to go home became more and more intense day by day. Different from previous years, before the New Year was over, the eldest brother sent a message: my uncle was coming over to have New Year's Eve dinner with them! Shui Haonao couldn't understand why so many cars and so many people came out of nowhere on this freezing day. They quickly choked the cold and hard streets, and even the roaring little north wind became anxious. Of course, the flavor of the New Year is also getting stronger day by day with the sudden influx of people. Shui Hao is engaged in logistics work in the county government office. When the New Year comes, he pays homage and visits. The leader must, under the command of the reporter, hold the hand of the elderly or children, and then say some warm words to the camera with a smile.

Bai Jiasheng and Jiang Dalan drove Yuan Shuai to their mansion and arranged for Yuan Shuai to have a good rest for two days. They cleaned him up at an old school reunion in Shenzhen on the weekend, and then took him to Xiaomeisha to play in the sea. June was the golden season for sea bathing, and he came at the right time. The politeness of the Bai family and his wife made Yuan Shuai feel uncomfortable. He said no, no, I would just stay in the hotel. It's time to pick me up in a small car, and it's time to clean up at a party. I'm not a high-ranking official, so I don't dare to trouble my old classmates. Jiang Dalan laughed and said: Old classmate, don't forget that you are a marshal-level official. I should have sent you to the Wuzhou Hotel to stay, but unfortunately there is no room there for the time being. I feel sorry for you, Marshal Huang. Yuan Shuai became excited. No one had called him his nickname for more than ten years, and he had almost forgotten it. Today, when he was called, he felt more cordial and felt ten years younger.

The sad-looking postman seemed to come from the horizon. I have been on the balcony after the rain, trying to see through the road between the two rows of sycamore trees downstairs. The sycamore trees that had begun to lose their leaves were wet and shiny because of the rain that had just stopped. Every year, I have to wait until all the leaves have fallen before I can see the other side of the road from this balcony. At this time, I felt relieved. I just like to see the winding road at a glance through the intertwined, crusty and peeling tree trunks. However, the next year, as the leaves sprouted, the gray-black road disappeared again among the lush foliage, and I was once again at a loss. It wasn't until another late autumn swept by that I could gain some steadiness brought by the sense of clarity in the sudden realization of my return.

Early spring, Beijing. The grass is not green yet and the wind and sand are still blowing. In the famous Union Medical College Hospital, a young man was preparing for surgery due to acute appendicitis. Before the operation, he signed it himself and said to his comrades accompanying him with a smile: What are you afraid of having your belly opened? Are you so old-fashioned? The next day after the operation, he felt in good spirits and chatted leisurely with his friends and brothers about his favorite career and, of course, his beloved girlfriend. That night, the young man's condition suddenly deteriorated. His breathing was weak, his pulse was erratic, and his nails turned blue.

Brother Jin Qian's face is full of vicissitudes of life, as if it were a portrait of his ups and downs in life. In recent years, when he introduces himself to others, he always adds "nearly seventy years old". Joking among good friends is unscrupulous. Whenever this happens, I always say teasingly: "He was so old more than thirty years ago, and he is still so old more than thirty years later." In fact, this half-truth and half-false sentence would be more appropriate if it were changed to "He was like an old boy more than thirty years ago, and he is still like an old boy more than thirty years later." Of course, when he is said to be "like an old boy", he refers to his "heart".

"I" have not been valued by my grandmother who favored boys over girls since I was a child. Due to her long-term contempt, I developed a rebellious and perverse personality. I deliberately opposed my grandmother at every turn and challenged her authority. After growing up, "I", who became a reporter, began to re-examine my grandma's life from the perspective of my own life situation. The novel uses the conflict of ideas and personalities between the old and young generations of women to describe the fate of the characters and family encounters, forging the "rough" life into a gentle texture, and revealing the author's unique understanding of the changes of the times and the flow of life: I must grow in her roots, and she must reappear in my body... Living, which was originally the fastest thing, has become the slowest because of this.

A week later, Zhou Daoqiang felt that his construction site should be as straight as straight and square as square. However, when he walked to the construction site, he found that it was still in a mess. Cement, gravel, sand, and profiles were piled up in random directions. Together with the newly dug soil when digging the wall foundation, the entire construction site looked like it had been bombarded. Zhou Daoqiang walked up to the foreman Li Xiuhai with a smile on his face, but his words were in a complaining tone: "Old Li, why don't you see any work? I've cut my nails twice, and your wall is not as high as your teeth?" Li Xiuhai was squatting on a brick, holding the tail of a cigarette in his hand, squinting, looking ahead blankly, and pursed his lips when Zhou Daoqiang asked. Zhou Daoqiang looked in the direction of Li Xiuhai's mouth. Not far away, a man in his thirties was sitting on a pile of bricks and looking over.

Lao Jia has been preparing for large-scale meetings for decades and has never had any mistakes. Unexpectedly, he made a mistake. Last week, Huang Zhong, the old secretary of the municipal party committee, officially retired due to his age. The person who took over as secretary of the municipal party committee was Yu Xiaoye, director of the Political Research Office of the provincial party committee. The municipal party committee decided to hold a meeting of cadres at the municipal level and above this Tuesday, allowing the new secretary Yu to meet the cadres, and also allowing the old secretary to say a formal farewell to everyone. The preparation of the meeting is naturally Lao Jia's business. Lao Jia is the director of the large-scale event office of the municipal party committee and the municipal government, referred to as the "big event office". He also holds the title of vice chairman of the Municipal People's Political Consultative Conference. His main job responsibilities are to prepare and host meetings. When he was about to get off work last Friday, Lao Jia met his old secretary Huang Zhong beside the elevator.

I have never met Lu Qiang. Lu Qiang died when I came to teach in this school. I came to this school eight years ago, when Lu Qiang had just died two years ago, which means that Lu Qiang has been dead for ten years now. Ten years ago, when Lu Qiang was still alive, he taught mathematics in this high school and seemed to be the head of the lesson preparation team or something. Regarding Lu Qiang, I listened to what my colleagues around me said. The more people spread the word, the more things will inevitably become distorted. I have summarized the widely circulated version, removing the rough and the essential, discarding the false and retaining the true. The story is roughly as follows.

In the 1960s, hybrid rice had not yet been developed. The rice planted in rural areas was still a few varieties such as Bai Gu Magu that had been passed down from ancestors. The yield was low, it was difficult to maintain, and it was prone to diseases and insect pests. If the fertilizer was too little, the seedlings would not grow, and if too much fertilizer was applied, the seedlings would fall down. Jiepo Brigade (at that time, townships were not called townships, they were called people's communes, and villages were not called villages, but production brigades). It was the most remote brigade in Jieping Commune, and it was also the poorest brigade in Jieping Commune. After the grain collection tasks were handed over every year, there was not much left. People only used melons and vegetables to fill their stomachs, and they never had a good meal all year round. The commune leaders were very anxious, the commune members were hungry, and they were not living a good life. That spring, the leaders of the commune sent a team to guide spring planting and brought the spirit of the instructions from above: plant evenly and densely, and plant three to three inches.

A certain section chief of the Propaganda Section of a certain bureau's political department worked well, but he was suddenly transferred and became a section chief of a certain section somewhere at the grassroots level. By the way, "someone" is not just for the military's need for confidentiality. For some less important factors, it is better to learn the background blur in photography, which may better highlight the main body of the story. Back to business. This incident seemed to be just an ordinary matter. They were all deputy regiment-level cadres, all in administrative leadership positions, and they could even supervise more than a dozen people under their control. However, everyone in a certain bureau knew in their hearts: from the agency to the grassroots level, it was undoubtedly a "devolution" and a "demotion", and it could never be without reason. What's more, even the few well-informed people in the bureau had not gotten any information in advance, which made the matter even more strange and mysterious. As a result, all kinds of speculations and discussions immediately started to rage.

Wang Haibo wrote a novel titled "Spirit". The novel tells a story that the Chu Opera Troupe in the county was in a bad situation and was on the verge of death. The head boy Wu Shengrui goes to the underground casino every night and sits in a corner of the casino. The casino was both quiet and noisy, with gamblers rolling dice and betting on odd or even numbers. When a gambler hits the dice and rake a lot of cash into his arms, Wu Shengrui will shout "spirit" at the right time. Those who serve tea, place money, and boys who go out to run errands and buy cigarettes also sing in unison: "Spirit!" When the gamblers who win money are happy, they will take out a hundred-dollar bill (or two, sometimes three), stretch it back from their shoulders without looking back, and also loudly say, "Spirit!" Wu Shengrui had already taken the money and continued to express his big brother spirit. This time will happen several times a night, depending on the gambler's excitement and luck.

With the deepening of reform and social transformation, the real world is becoming more and more market-oriented. We increasingly believe in market values. It seems that the market holds the golden key to prosperity and freedom. Market values ​​dominate all areas of social life and citizen life. So, are there things that money shouldn't buy? Are there priceless treasures and social rules in this world and our lives that cannot be measured by money? American scholar Michael Sandel has made a very valuable and in-depth discussion on this in his book "What Money Can't Buy". This magazine has excerpted some wonderful chapters for the readers' enjoyment. Introduction Market and Public Good There are some things that money cannot buy, but nowadays, there are not many such things. Today, almost everything is up for grabs.

The rainy days lasted for three and a half weeks, and then clear skies suddenly appeared, making people feel as if they had won a lottery. People who live in high-rise buildings don't dare to look at the sky, because the sky is so blue and black that it makes people dizzy. It had only been sunny for a short while, and a kaleidoscope of wet clothes was draped on the balconies of every house, as if the sun had blasted every house into pieces. The tall buildings in the community are like large square pillars that have just risen from the sea, and are covered with "oysters and kelp" hanging from the ribs. On the first floor, in the courtyard adjacent to the two houses, there are also sheets and bed sheets that have been washed and dried, and there is a plaque of red wolfberries on the fence. Several May gray butterflies the size of fingernails fluttered among the hedges in the two yards. A child of about four years old, with his face raised and his hands open, slowly swam in the yard like a blind man.

As a wife and mother, she is naturally not that young anymore. The strange thing is that her heart, wrapped in the materialistic worldly life, still stubbornly maintains the innocence and innocence of a girl. In real life, she is honest and humble, and is willing to play an inconspicuous role; in the spiritual world, she is fearful and confused, and would rather be a lone traveler exploring paths and trying to move forward. Surviving in the visible reality, encountering unsatisfactory people and affairs, and seeing unsatisfactory world phenomena, she feels tired and always has the desire to escape; while "living" in the invisible world, complaining about unreasonable favors and describing paradoxical embarrassments, she thinks that she is a moth and cannot fly willfully.

Hu Shubin, an ethnic minority, was born in Nayong, Guizhou in 1977. He currently lives in Yongkang, Zhejiang and is the editor-in-chief of the corporate quarterly Hals Magazine. He started learning to write novels in 2007 and has published many novels in Jiangmen Literature and Art, Guizhou Writers, Hundred Gardens, Youth, Little Novels Monthly, Cuiyuan, and Short Stories. Mucheng Township, with a radius of fifty miles, has attached great importance to Baixi funerals since ancient times. When a person dies, he not only has to chant sutras and Buddhas, accompany the spirit to rescue the suffering, but also invite relatives and friends to come to pay homage, and invite suona craftsmen to sit in the hall and play. There are two suona craftsmen in a team, with two suonas, one big and one small. The small suona plays high-pitched and loud, and the big suona plays the reverse spectrum, deep and deep. One forward and one reverse, the two swords are combined, and the blowing is so heart-stirring and full of twists and turns. On the day of the funeral, the suona craftsmen invited by the three relatives of the Xiao family to pay homage will usually take this opportunity to hold a suona competition. The Xiao family will also give a red envelope for the suona craftsmen to compete for it.

At the end of the Eastern Han Dynasty, Han Zhonglang general Zang Min suddenly attacked Xianbei. Tan Shihuai, the Xianbei master, was caught off guard and was captured. That night, Zang Min's beloved dancer Li Nuo helped Tan Shihuai escape from the prison. In order to fight back against the invasion of the Eastern Han Dynasty, Tan Shihuai sneaked into General Zhonglang's mansion for reconnaissance. Unfortunately, he was captured again and imprisoned in a dungeon. But Tan Shihuai miraculously escaped from prison and returned to Xianbei. At this time, Zang Min, the general of Zhonglang, and three ambitious generals were preparing to attack Xianbei again. Linuo stole the information and wanted to send it out of General Zhonglang's house, but was targeted by Zang Min's spy Ruan Zhao.

A thunderous sound of horse hooves broke the silence of the grassland. Zang Min, the commander-in-chief of the Xiongnu, and Nan Shan Yu Teutonic led more than ten thousand fine cavalry into the grassland. Their iron hoofs trampled the colorful flowers, casting a terrifying black shadow on the grassland. The pungent smell of horse sweat and blood filled the grassland. The Xiongnu lieutenant looked toward Zang Min toward the southwest. A group of variegated wild horses, a group of gray sheep, and a group of yellow horned cattle are running. From a distance, they look like colorful clouds floating in the blue sky. A red bead ejected from the wild horses and rolled towards Zang Min's cavalry regiment. Gradually, Hongzhu turned into a bay-red horse, and the rider on the horse gradually became clear.

Longquan Town. It is an important town located at the crossroads between Heilongjiang and Jilin provinces. One afternoon in July 1943, three motorcycles, one in front and two behind, were leading the way, leading a black "Ford" car with a plaster flag on it. They honked their horns frantically and drove through the main street of Longquan Town like lightning. Then they made a sharp turn and drove into a compound at an unabated speed. This is a courtyard with a bluestone structure. There are two guard posts with guns standing in front of the gate. The high courtyard wall is supported by a double-layer electric grid. Four monster-like guard towers stand at the four corners of the courtyard wall. The barrels of guns poke out from the dark holes.

Stubborn Li Zheng is famously stubborn in our county. When it comes to his name, different people have different opinions. Profiteers are afraid of him because he is not only stubborn, but also very serious and competitive. He is simply more difficult to deal with than the Consumer Association. Some leaders are afraid of him because he closes his eyes. No matter you are a relative of the royal family with a profound background, or a second uncle or third aunt who he can't control, you will always ignore the truth and ignore people. It is simply less open-minded than the Discipline Inspection Commission. But the common people like him very much, saying that his stubbornness is the courage to defend the truth, that he is defending the rights and venting anger for the common people, and that he is a contemporary chivalrous man. I can't tell what kind of person he is, so I will write down three things he did recently that have been widely circulated among us. Whether it is good or bad, readers can judge for themselves.

"I heard about the real dragon species, but it is still an old man. It whines and thinks of fighting, and stands tall towards the sky." This is a poem left by the poet Du Fu after he lived in Qinzhou during the "Anshi Rebellion". The poet was inspired by the good horse and used the metaphor of "true dragon" and "old horse" to express his desire to make contributions to the country even when he was homeless and in a very difficult situation. After the "September 18th Incident", Xu Beihong used the poetic conception or direct theme of "Wailing and thinking of fighting, standing towards the sky" to draw countless war horses with their necks wailing and neighing in anger, expressing his infinite concern and feelings of serving the country, and encouraging the Chinese people's anti-Japanese fighting spirit in his own unique way. In fact, "whining", "standing" and "thinking about fighting" are not only important themes in Xu Beihong's horse paintings, but also demonstrate Xu Beihong's artistic stance and state throughout his life.

Young Master Ting suffered from facial gangrene when he was thirteen years old. Facial gangrene, also known as grimacing gangrene, was a very dangerous disease at that time and could easily kill people. The ulcers cannot be stopped, and the sores get bigger and bigger. Eventually, they will be as big as a human face, and their facial features will appear - gradually appear ears, nose, mouth, and finally open the eyes. As soon as the ghost's eyes are opened, the gangrene will "grow yellow" and the person will undoubtedly die from septicemia. Just saying this is scary and disgusting. Doctors come and go like a revolving door. The evil thing on Young Master Ting's legs has not improved. The whole Ji family was in panic. The most anxious person is of course the head of the family, Ji Pinzhen. Mr. Zhen had read several medical books when he was young and thought he had just learned about Qihuang.