Yima
20 years ago, I had a horse. This horse was approved to me after grinding with my father for nearly a week. It was the most beautiful mare among the 20 horses my father came from Inner Mongolia. It had a green coat, affectionate eyes, and a docile character. I named it "Xuexue". At that time Xuexue was pregnant, and in her spare time, my father took me to ride Xuexue to Dianzi. Although Xuexue is only a breed of ploughing horses, when she went to the big dianzi, Xuexue was high-spirited and unrestrained. The wind blew strongly from the opposite side, and the little me, lying on its warm back, felt the speed and was full of joy. Slowly, stop, it whispered softly "" twice, telling me it was time to come down and go home. If I didn't come down, it would run another lap and beg me to come down again, because Dad had already called us home for dinner. I was willful, and before I came down, it would run another lap and beg me repeatedly. Its voice was full of maternal pampering and love.