That year

Undoubtedly, we are the best partner in the eyes of teachers and classmates.

The actual fact is that you will be able to get a lot more than just a few of the most popular and popular items. Occasionally there are times when you wander off, caught by the teacher, called up, and then you are all kinds of anxious all kinds of hints, but I am 100% sure that the teacher will never be as idiotic as we think, so just honestly say do not know, will not do, did not listen clearly. Although sitting down slowly to pack a bunch of blame and blame, a kind of thing called friendship is quietly growing at this time.

The most beautiful is bound to be those bright eyes, those eyes that speak and smile, they just need to look at, naturally I understand, naturally I will do things right. They sweep a sweep from time to time, the world is really beautiful, the flowers outside the window is very delicate. They sometimes glance at a glance, so that I feel my heart beating and my face seems to be on fire.

A bunch of mimosa in the bush, lush white age is young.

That day, Huang Rong slant carrying a small green leather bag in the waist, fluffy mohair shirt on the warm plaid flowers, a small tight black pants and small leather shoes of the same color, shoulder-length short hair smooth and bright, tied a small white cap on top. Huang Rong is standing there, standing in front of the classroom, the morning sunlight from outside, through her face and because of the sweater sleeves and exposed on the slender arms of the fine fluffy above, blossom out of the golden light.

It was beautiful!

I and more than half of my buddies looked stunned. However, with a grunt, all wrinkled to a piece of eyebrows, pencils on the table pestle beeping, and then more than half do not speak.

Cold war has never been there.

When I was a child, I would draw a line, saying that I would not cross the line, but of course it would only last three minutes. Now it will not be so childish, but the duration can be much longer. You do not pay attention to me, I also quiet. So it's a big competition of silence to see who can't survive. There will always be losers, or not win or lose. Naturally, most of the time it's the boys who don't have a long memory. A thoughtless remark, do you have my pen? I haven't finished copying what the teacher just wrote, show me. I don't understand this question, can ......

Really, I absolutely did not mean to find words, I absolutely absolutely really forgot. Well, it actually doesn't matter who is right and who is wrong, who is strong and who is weak, who wins and who loses, it doesn't matter. Smoke and mirrors.

That year, the not-so-young chasing the wind teenager is enjoying throwing those worthless sweat on the playground, the four runways are stepping out more than one, the soccer ball kicked bang bang, can not kick the goal post to dent a round. If you give a fulcrum, he will have to pry the earth up.

Occasionally, they will be quiet, thinking about some messy things, inexplicably, the face shows a different look, and write some four or six untuned things on the piece of paper, but unexpectedly was drawn away, only a glance, a big smile on the face, and then jade-like fingers on the snow-like paper scratch: the teacher stare at us! I looked up at the blackboard, the teacher was thinking hard in a pile of molecular atoms, she may be demonstrating the face changing in Sichuan Opera. And regardless of her, I turned my head, the piece of paper has been put into the book of secrets, no matter how to ask, will not return me.

And the fight.

It's all my fault.

No.

Does it hurt?

Ouch.

Uh ......

Here according to the routine, in fact, I should be filled with a handful of tough guys, said no pain. But I'm really not Stallone, not Schwarzenegger ah! To a pair of three, the fist kept falling on my body when there is no feeling, but now it really hurts ah!

That year, you, eighteen is not yet full.

That year, I, love is not yet open.

The years that passed in a hurry, I came, I left, I left nothing, I did not take anything away.

That year, we seemed to understand something.

That year, we seem to have missed something.

The water of the Bu River is still clear and clean. I picked up a scoop and let them gently flow past my face, cool as if they were telling something, and silent.

The Pingqiao waterfall was still splashing. I stood on the side and watched the water rushing against the rocks stirring up layers of foam, like rain, like mist, like snow. Up and down, sunlight refraction, a beautiful rainbow leap up. Light, shadow, water, stone, forming a dreamy and confusing scroll.

The maple forest at the eastern foot of Tianchi Mountain is red one year, and red another year. Under the trees were once the shadows do not know where, only a burst of whistling north wind blowing, rolled up a piece of the red leaves fell to fly up into the air, and finally fell, leaving only the bare tree, full of fluttering.

The smoke from the temple at the top of the mountain is gone, and the heart has a place to live in the void. The heart has a thousand knots, but in the end can not bear a fruit. There are thousands of Buddhas in the temple, which one is the Buddha in my heart?

My body is frozen, my heart is cold, and my eyes are blurred. From now on, I can no longer see the flowers laughing in the spring, the starry sky in the summer night, the geese flying high in the autumn, and the warm sunshine in the winter.

Everything.

Everything.

Can't see.

Nothing can be seen.

That year, we can never go back.

The cold raindrops fell from the sky, Li Li, I walked through the city alone again.

You, where are you.