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Cruel gentleness

One day I was driving with my wife and children to go out to play. At that time, my daughter was only seven years old. Listening to the songs in the car stereo, he suddenly asked me: Dad, why are the songs you listen to sad? When my daughter asked, I really didn’t know how to answer for a while. Fortunately, the considerate wife said quickly that dad didn’t like sadness, but the beautiful melody of those songs. I didn’t say anything and kept driving. That was two years ago. Two years passed quickly and two decades passed quickly. The reason why I didn’t answer my daughter’s question was that adults should not tell their children a lot of things. The reason why the wife answered so much is that the well-meaning wife has known a lot of her husband’s worries and has been hiding for many years. For two decades, I have not told anyone that even if I write in the article, it is always so obscure. Everyone has some memories that are unwilling to say but cannot be wiped out. Today, listening to Qi Qin’s cruel gentleness, the past suddenly appeared in front of her eyes and filled her mind. That day was an ordinary day in 1994, with bright sun, blue sky and white clouds, birds singing and joy, Green Spring Festival and clear streams gurgling. But that day was the saddest day in my life, when I was sad, I forgot my sadness, myself, Heaven and Earth, time, direction of the road and trembling heart. In 1995, I wrote “Love Is a Many-Splendored Thing”. I only thought you were there. I sat alone in front of your tomb, playing and singing “The outside world”, waiting for the sunset, waiting for the soul to become two butterflies. In 1997, I wrote “the spring of the stream”, which is still so implicit, still so gentle, still so waiting, still so believing in the myth of love, still so believing in the everlasting love. In 1998, I wrote “The past is like water”. In the past, it was lingering like water; In the past, it was like water, and it passed away in helplessness. In 2000, I wrote “women in the mirror”. People always say that if they think more, there will be fantasies. If they see more, there will be illusions. The women in the mirror are so close, it is so far, so real and so illusory. That was when I got married and married the woman who loved me most. I think it was also that year. My favorite woman also got married with a man I didn’t know. Life is like a play, each of us is a play. Life is like a dream, in which all kinds of negative and negative differences are staged. Human life itself is a mistake, far less pure than birds and flowers. In 1994, I went to college and studied Chinese as I wished. After several months of missing and worrying, I accidentally received a letter from you. You asked me to meet at the Brook beside your school. I clearly remember that it was spring, mid-spring, with flowers blooming and birds singing happily. I specially bought two packs of raisins and rice crust that you like to eat. With a cheerful pace, I came to the brook and waited quietly. Finally, your money comes, white short coat, black student head. You walked slowly through the path in the field, just like when I first saw you, you were like a white rabbit all the time, looming among flowers and plants, and you were like the moon reflected in water, shining in the light. You hold my hand gently as usual, take me to a place where there is no one, tell me that you no longer love me, you look at me gently as usual, speak slowly but it is best to break up. Say slowly that you are your I am me. How can you be so gentle that my tears fall like a meteor? How can you be so gentle, when my heart can’t be completely pieced together. Next, you left. That was the last time I saw you in my life. Later, I thought I would never see you again in my life, but I didn’t think so at that time, at that time, I didn’t think about anything. There was a little buzzing in my head, and my mind was blank. I didn’t smoke much at that time, and now I smoke every day. At that time, I just sat there, and now I often sit quietly in the study. At that time, I didn’t look at the sky or the ground. I just stared at a stone in the stream and watched the clear stream flowing through her. Now I listen to Qi Qin’s cruel gentleness over and over again, tapping the keyboard with these uncaring and boring things that never changed. I don’t know how long I have been sitting there. I really don’t know how long I have been sitting there. I stood up and walked on the road aimlessly. I remember that a car often passed by me and pressed the loud horn, but I didn’t know why. I saw a man sitting beside Dray without any expression on his face and no movement on his hands. I saw several big cakes on the table, without any color or smell. I heard songs in the sound on the street, no melody, no emotion, no beginning, no end. I don’t know how long I have been walking. I really don’t know how long I have been walking. I walked into the city from the suburbs. I don’t know how many streets I have crossed. I walked from the city to the suburbs, and I didn’t know why I walked to the Brook again. I sat down again. I opened a bag of raisins, took out one by one raisins, threw them into the stream and watched her drift away slowly on the water. I clearly remember that I didn’t shed a drop of tears and cried that day, as if on that day, I had completely forgotten. In 2012, I wrote “there is a person”. Can love last forever? I often Touch My Paper Heart and ask myself. There was a man who was there, and I knew she was there. In 2013, I wrote “the little moon of a Dream”. However, dreams are born from the bottom of my heart and are sent in the dark night. Whether sleeping soundly or tossing and falling asleep, the most unbearable thing is love between half dreams and half awake, which can be pursued, remembered, but cannot be repeated. The second decade has passed after all, and the second decade will pass. In the past two decades, I have not been a hero. In the past two decades, I will still be far from a hero. Once again, tell yourself that there is no fabulous love, no end, no beginning, only a young flying dream.

Zan (prose editor: Jiangnan wind) Phoenix Mountain Spring Tour

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