With Each Passing Day

When I opened this book, I always thought it was just an ordinary high school daily life, but as I read it, I sank into the rain with the power. In the eyes of others, he is just a quiet and ordinary teenager, but we can see his thoughts hidden behind the desk: being overwhelmed by the comparisons of his elders, summoning up the courage to talk but being ignored, staying up late at night clutching unfinished homework, diving into the rainstorm and shouting "I will not lose" in the face of strange looks from the street. Those nagging grievances of adolescence, the unspeakable unwillingness, and the fear that I am not "useful" enough are all mixed into the sound of the fan, the rain falling on the eaves, and the warm and soft scene of the orange cat curled up. It is as real as opening someone's locked diary. The most poignant thing is the dark wind and snow fantasy in the second half. In July, there was unusually cold black snow, and rusty iron warning signs marked the presence of monsters. The hunter was an old friend that he had missed when he was young. The title of the old composition in the candy store became a thorn in the heart. The beast that was regarded as evil by the whole city, peeled off its ferocious skin, was just the broken ink pen that the boy had held for several years - it was the exam that he could not finish, and it was himself that he had never let go. Wei did not draw his sword to slay the demon, but instead stretched out his hand to hug the trembling inner demon. This is not the legend of a brave man slaying the demon. It is clearly a lonely child who finally dared to embrace the embarrassing shortcomings in his heart. After the gunshot broke the snow, I suddenly woke up from the desk. The cold sweat on my forehead was not dry, and my chest was still beating with a fresh and warm heartbeat. The wind and snow in the fantasy world had settled. The rain that trapped him in the past became the baptism that he took the initiative to rush to, and the illusion of Mo Xue that trapped him finally became his way back to reconcile with himself. The writing style is calm and restrained, with no deliberately sensationalistic scenes. The background is laid out by the fragmented daily life, and the dark fantasy is wrapped in the softest gentle redemption. When you close the page, it seems that you are accompanying the boy walking in the snow, gently hugging your former timid self in the wind and snow.