There is no wind and snow and no flight, and the cold enters the living room.

Fireflies fall on the plum piles, and the dead branches are ruined.

It was eleven o'clock in the morning, the sun was shining outside the window, and the snow was shining on the dead grass. It was cold, and it hid its delicate atmosphere. In Building 203, District 6 of Xiangke University, in this dormitory, eight people are still sleeping under the covers. Our protagonist, of course, is one of them.

"I just said that when I woke up in the morning, it was very nice outside. ”

"Where is it beautiful, I'm cold, I want to sleep, ahhhh ”

Outside the window, the sound of the girls talking is crisp like the chirping of birds, adding a bit of vitality to the winter, and like jade colliding, and the snow on the branches.

And our protagonist seems to be attracted by the sound and slowly wakes up. I opened my eyes and sat up in a daze. Dizzy, he found that this place was somewhat familiar, whether it was the wooden cot unique to the school dormitory, or the textbook at the foot of the bed. In the midst of the confusion, he seemed to remember that he was drinking, eating, thinking about his teenage years, thinking about his college time.

So, if you want to cross, then drink. Otherwise, you can't do anything if your posture is wrong, and you can't do anything with a shy face.

I've already said the secret of traversal, as for the truth or falsehood, you guys hurry up and help me test the water. Then give me the data, and I will improve it for the benefit of book friends.

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It was a night in 2019, in the corner of a small county town in southern Hunan, China, with a long whistle and dazzling lights. It blends with the neon on the KTV sign on the side of the road, the faint singing in the room, and the communication of pedestrians. Although it is a small inland town, there are not many of these things. And our protagonist is in a restaurant in the alley next door. He was holding a bottle of beer in his left hand and a cigarette in his right hand, his eyes glazed over.

His name is Wu Jin, and he is a high school Chinese teacher. The slightly round face and extraordinarily round belly made this man in his thirties and forties a little funny, a little funny. And the rising hairline seems to be silently mocking. ridiculed him for being mediocre and inactive, and for forty years he was bland, and he directly chose the normal major in college, and became a teacher just for stability, without half a love and ideals. And the pressure of repaying the mortgage and raising children made him even more decadent and vicissitudes.

The real one is:

When people reach middle age, everything is resting, and the past is frivolous.

The elegance is gone, but I can't wait for the old time.

He shook his head, trying to shake the thoughts out. But these thoughts drilled straight into the heart and into the chest, which made him breathe a little short, and made his eyes a little astringent. But who is to blame for this? Others say that their own path has been chosen by their parents and cannot be changed. As for him, this path was chosen by himself.

At that time, he remembered his dream of becoming a writer, remembered that when he was young, he read those poems and articles that were intertwined with literary and artistic tastes, and he liked Yu Guangzhong, Xu Zhimo, Wang Xiaobo, and many, many people.

He remembered what he was like when he was in college, he was still a teenager, and he firmly believed that he would be a famous writer, but the reality gave him a conclusion that he could not accept but had to accept. He's really not fit to be a writer. It seems that with the martial character in his name, it is difficult to achieve literary achievements.

His tears suddenly flowed out at this moment, directly covering his face. He didn't bother to wipe it, but his lips trembled slightly, and he muttered, "I really want to be a writer." ”

In the hazy eyes of tears, the world is shaking, and the tall buildings outside the door are crumbling. He seemed to faint in the midst of the whirlwind.

————————

But why did it suddenly become so strange and familiar? I suddenly looked to the right, and I looked to the right, "Isn't that my college roommate, Liu Chao?" When I looked at my hands again, they were white and pure, without any trace of the vicissitudes of time. Surprised, unable to care about the cold or getting dressed, Wu Jin got out of bed and rushed to the only mirror in the bedroom.

Although the mirror is a little broken, the thin face inside, the hair of moderate length is combed in the middle, the facial features are upright, and it is very delicate. But the most delicate and beautiful thing is the pair of sword eyebrows, which adds a bit of heroism out of thin air. Although he has no strong muscles, although he is only 1.72 meters, his body is very well-proportioned, and everything looks just right. It's really a handsome guy.

"Isn't this when I was young? What's going on? Are all my previous dreams?" Wu Jin, who had read many novels at the beginning, had some vague guesses in his heart.

In order to confirm his guess and not want to disturb his roommates sleeping, Wu Jin carefully opened the only computer in the dormitory, because he wanted to play games, but he was poor, so he crowdfunded to buy a computer. Looking at the date, December 9, 2002, isn't that the year of freshman year?

Wu Jin was a little flustered and a little excited. The panic was because the unthinkable scared him, and the excitement was because he knew he should have a great opportunity. Not only did he earn eighteen years of time in vain, but it also gave him the opportunity to realize his dream of becoming a writer.

With this in mind, Wu Jin tried his best to recall the works he had read, and he was surprised to find that he was able to remember all the favorite literary works he had read. Wu Jin was so excited that he almost roared, holding back his excitement, Wu Jin smirked lowly. Smiling and smiling, Wu Jin found that his whole body was gradually getting colder, and Wu Jin, who was wearing only one dress and underwear in the mirror, seemed to be trembling all over. Wu Jin couldn't care about the excitement anymore, and ran directly into the quilt and began to think about his beautiful life in the future.

I didn't expect that I would have the opportunity to be a copyist. God has no eyes. Do I need to be a copyist? Isn't my originality good enough?

emmm, you don't have an AC count yourself.

"Wouldn't I be a writer, wahahaha", he thought so, but he couldn't sleep, so he simply got dressed and got up, washed his face and brushed his teeth, and then went to eat. After quickly eating a few steamed buns, for his dream of being a writer, Wu Jin hurriedly ran to the library, walking like the wind along the way. Just because he wanted to see what books and works had been published, and which ones he could plagiarize. As for whether plagiarism is immoral, he feels that he can't take care of it, and for his dream, he can only say sorry to them.

"Who told me to be born again, this is the opportunity God gave me. I'm really stupid if I don't write (chao). Hey. With a dream of being a writer, Wu Jin walked into the library in high spirits.

Wu Jin happily walked into the library and carefully searched for those famous writers. But he walked around the entire library, but he didn't find half of them, no Han Han, no Xu Zhimo, no Yu Guangzhong, no Wang Xiaobo.

Wu Jin, who has seen many rebirth passages, realizes that this world is not exactly the same as the previous life, with the same background, the same history, and then similar literature. Therefore, it seems that it is impossible to say what parts of literature are missing, there are no famous writers in Wujin's previous life, but there are writers who did not have in his previous life. Therefore, the literature of this life is not inferior to the literature of the previous life, they have a common background, but each has its own representative, each has its own explicit form.

Wu Jin found that this world was more suitable for him, suitable for him to be a copyist, and it would not affect the interests of the original author, and he could realize his dream, the best of both worlds.