Beloved Gone

Fishy, ​​I've come to see you! Keep it up!

Come see the perfect match &nnsp; see Little Fish Senior Sister

Fishy's back! Did you miss me?

Happy Dragon Boat Festival! Sending you my best wishes early! ∩_∩

Little fish, the cat's coming!

A late visit. Congratulations on the completion!

My beloved is gone, my beloved is gone, my beloved is so handsome

You know why I'm here (๑❛ᴗ❛๑) �������������������ᙘ 0;�����������������&...

Haven't been online for a few days, just checking in, missed you.

Today is the National College Entrance Examination (Gaokao). Let me say a few words. I recall a passage I memorized in my senior year of high school, which remains vivid in my memory. Many texts I read once and forget, but those I read in high school seem to be ingrained in my bones. Chinese literature is like the dazzling stars of the pre-Qin period, the bright autumn moon over the Han palace; it's like the pipa playing pearls on a jade plate, the zither playing the "high mountains and flowing water" melody; it's like Confucius reciting the Analects; it's like Zhuangzi's carefree wandering; it's like throwing oneself into the river to play the zither; it's like the moonlit door, uncertain whether to "push" or "knock"; it's like seeking only a single word; it's like Zhuangzi's carefree wandering, like Confucius's arduous journey; it's like the old horse's ambition of the King of Wei, like Zhuge Liang's brilliant strategies; it's like the Book of Songs, a tale of a gentleman's pursuit, like the Chu Ci, a tale of a soul returning; it's like the Art of War, where one once wielded a sheep whip, like the Records of the Grand Historian, a work of art that endured castration; it's like Li Bai's wine in his cup, like Cao Xueqin's tears in his dream; it's like the timeless poems, lyrics, and prose...