"There are three thousand weak waters, but you only take one scoop. In this world of mortals, you only love one person."
Xia Yang's warm voice came over.
"Is this what Senior Xia Yang is pursuing?" Luo Yan looked at Xia Yang, was silent for a moment, took a deep look at Liu Ruixuan, lowered her head, and in an instant, raised her head again.
"I once read an article about ten years of lovesickness." Luo Yan said, "I was so moved that I cried."
"Huh?" Liu Ruixuan couldn't help but responded, "Let's talk about it."
After saying that, I couldn't help but want to slap myself twice.
Who can recite the articles they have read? It would be good if they can remember just a few words.
"I can't remember clearly, but I still remember some of the first few paragraphs." Luo Yan thought for a while and nodded towards Liu Ruixuan, "I can't remember where I saw it or who I heard mentioned it.
And: It is said that the plane tree is a symbol of romance."
"The rain in the south of the Yangtze River began to pour down, and the whole city was enveloped in the mist of rain, half hazy and half moist. Through the ancient window panes, the sycamore trees next to the window were moistly dyed with the autumn charm of the south of the Yangtze River.
: After the autumn rain, it slowly turns yellow, stained with the traces of time.
In the rainy breath, it inadvertently spreads over the pages gradually piled up on the table. The past is flying like butterflies, filling every crevice of the soul. A faint laughter comes faintly: a small wish.
Like a rain of rouge wet petals, half pure and half rich.
In the rain flowers flying all over the sky, I met a group of friends. They worked hard in their respective squares and dyed their own colors: long or short, sharp or subtle. However, they were all kind and more sincere:
He pointed out the shortcomings that I didn’t want to reveal without hesitation, and affirmed my unique style without hesitation. His kind comments and elegant conversations attracted me, enriched the colors of autumn, and made the entire sky blue after the autumn rain.
, so the sky is blue and transparent, and blue is dazzling.
The rain in the south of the Yangtze River falls one after another, year after year, and I suddenly think of the memories from many years ago, and the gaze I stared at many years ago, clear and a little persistent. So, now, many years later,
My eyes are clearer and more persistent.”
Wow! Liu Ruixuan was stunned for a moment after hearing this. These literary talents are so impressive.
No wonder Luo Yan would remember it.
He can't remember.
"Go on." Liu Ruixuan looked at Luo Yan.
"I can't remember the following content clearly." Luo Yan smiled and lowered her head slightly.
"One step away, it's lovesickness, not love. Feelings are like dust, but they are always so meticulous." Xia Yang's voice suddenly came over.
Huh? Liu Ruixuan looked at Xia Yang, what?
"I have also seen this article." Xia Yang smiled slightly, "Suddenly, I remembered the epitaph of Stendhal that I had seen a few years ago: Lived, loved, and wrote.
Or, the time can be further back, the story can be older, so far back that as soon as you have some emotions, you start to want to control it, so old that you can recall the green years of the Doujiao years, it is an instant of eternity, or it can be
I am grateful for those years when my hair turned white or my hair was long and fluttering, and I have never stopped thinking about it.
I received a beautifully bound book, which touched my thoughts many years ago, and everything began to have a decent beginning. In other words, the tone of the story was interpreted in the long ago.
Youth passed by, memory passed by, so that even now, many years later, the story still has no ending.
And I have long been accustomed to moving forward, just as I imagined back then: in the rainy Jiangnan, in the gray-white pavilions, listening to songs. I started to be silent, became more persistent, my eyes were clear, and I never stopped or made any noise.
Yichuan tobacco, the city is full of wind, plums are yellow and rainy.
The light rain beats on the window lattice, bringing up boundless thoughts: Who once held a light blue umbrella and wore a long floral skirt swaying in the light rain, leaving behind boundless longings and gratitude.
All the beautiful moments of summer have been gathered in the rain at this moment. Suddenly, I remembered an ancient poem: Mountains are one step away, water is one step away, walking towards the bank of Yuguan, deep in the night, there are thousands of lamps. The wind is one step away. The first watch of the snow breaks the heart of my hometown, and my dream cannot come true. There is no such sound in my hometown.
So, pour a cup of light tea, in the summer solstice rain, in the gently wafting fragrance of tea, taste it carefully and drink lightly. Accompanied by the wind, listening to the rain, and feeling the monotonous and repetitive changes of the seasons.
In the misty rain in the south of the Yangtze River, I feel grateful for the distant mountains and rivers, the nostalgia of the wind and snow; the boundless clarity of relief, the deep implication and the elegance of the long.
I began to like the loneliness and elegance of words more and more, those long or short sentences, just like those long or short, deep or light nights accompanied by long readings under the green lamp...
However, outside the window, not far away, the raindrops dropped a pool of green, and a long clear sky was slowly drawn where the water and the sky met.
In the late spring cold, I lean on the railing and gaze at the waning moon in the west, accumulating melancholy. Who has met me before and turned into catkins in the willow breeze?
When my memory turned to spring, I suddenly found that I was already a little far away from my lovesickness, or in other words, I was getting further and further away.
The misty and rainy Jiangnan has dyed the spring scenery. The originally clear sky has been rained at night. Whether it is crisp or dense, like smoke or like silk, I don’t know. I just opened my eyes in the morning after such a rain. I saw the traces left behind by the mist and rain.
Before the gray dawn, I looked back sadly and picked up the past. However, I couldn't read it, and I couldn't help but sigh: My words and I have drifted further and further away.
So, what about you? Many years from now, will you and I pass each other on the street corner, and even if we meet, we will no longer know each other?
Time passed by in the rain, and I began to be silent and a little lonely. Just like what I imagined back then, everything seemed to be the same as before, but it was different from the past. Who had met me and turned into catkins in the willow breeze...
Set your heart in the distance, set your sights on the ocean, and don’t worry about the authenticity or shortcomings of a day. Ten years from now, when I look back, I will have the tolerance to smile safely."
In the misty Jiangnan, there was a hazy memory: I turned to the page "Outside the Window" from ten years ago and saw the line above. I suddenly remembered that the memories from many years ago were not gray and lonely at all.
In a courtyard with sparse flowers and trees, cuddle up on a wooden chair made of rattan, read a line of Song poems, and watch the sun mottled and the warmth spreading all over the ground. Stand with a smile, with a simple and elegant posture, the flowers bloom and fall. poetry.
A thin shadow in a window, half a volume of plain paper, as I raise my hand to write, time is fading away. With just one line of words, ten years have passed.
Through the windows that have passed through the years, thin pens on plain paper, and wisps of mist and rain falling between the eyebrows, the years are gentle. Let the clear words connect with the soul, and watch the petals gradually fall in the wind, gently and poignantly. .
Just like this, a stream of clouds is lightly dressing up. Let the flowers and plants smell fragrant, let the years go by, you see, when the rain falls, it is like your passing: not intentional, not obsessed, the gentle waves spread, from morning to dusk to forever.
And I, staring at the Tang poems and Song lyrics, watching the charming rain in the ink painting, dyeing the deep winter...
Then, pick up a ray of sunshine and shine on the intersection with you, letting a trace of love gradually flow with time. Smiling with you, enjoying a quiet warmth, and waiting for the arrival of the next ten years.
At the end of winter, I hear the sound of spring approaching. The world changes in the book, and the greenery of a bodhi tree is recorded. On the picture of the years, a frame of quietly blooming flowers and leaves is smudged, and the thick fragrance of ink is blooming, rendering it
Youth:
Meet, spring is warm and flowers are blooming, from morning to dusk to forever.
It is said in the ancient Yuefu, "It is only because you look back on me that it makes me think about your dynasty and dusk."
You see, I am missing you at this moment. Ten years later, I will pick them up one by one.
Those youthful pasts, those pasts that you either remember or have long forgotten.
You see, at this moment, I am missing you. Ten years later, I will recall the old time when we first met, and I will send an ancient lovesickness from a distance, which contains the young you and the inadvertently me back then.
In the blink of an eye, it has been ten years.
In ten years, the world has not changed much.
My heart is still like glass, listening to songs, writing, and reminiscing. It seems that something has changed again.
Inadvertently, ten years have passed by with lowered heads and eyebrows, and memories have slowly faded away.
Some people and things are slowly fading away, and I can no longer remember them. However, I can't bear to part with each memory, nor can I throw it away.
I suddenly began to understand that the arrival of spring was actually about searching for memories:
Ten years have passed since we first met, but now the me who is recalling and writing, and the me who first met, are still the same me. So, what about you?
"The white rabbit is running around here and there, its clothes are not as good as before, and its people are not as good as before."
In the summer ten years later, listen to an ancient lovesickness song and recall an ancient story that happened in the ancient years.
Then, in the spring scenery, I write a text about my encounter with you, and send an ancient lovesickness from afar. In it, there is me who was young, and you who we first met..."
"Yes, this is the text." Luo Yan's voice began to sob, "It's so touching."
Yes, very touching.
Liu Ruixuan glanced at Luo Yan, then turned his head and looked at Xia Yang.
Ten years? Lovesickness?
Such a long article is Xia Yang's love letter to Zhu Yan, right?
A gust of wind blew by, and suddenly I felt some cool heat on my face, and some hot coolness on my face. I stretched out my hand to wipe away a tear...