Yesterday, I watched the school's party, and I only remembered a bewitching woman, a pair of indifferent eyes under the long hair, staring at the beings under the stage, mixed with a touch of charm, the smooth little waist seemed to be boneless, dancing in the ambiguous light, and the long legs under the short skirt were wrapped in a pair of black stockings, reflecting the gorgeous luster of the stage, sexy, and enchanting. Pen, fun, pavilion www. biquge。 infoThe other girls don't exist at the moment, their jerky dance moves are all drowned in the lights, and she is the only one who interprets this dynamic dance to the fullest, pulling the audience's attention in her hands. At the end of the party, the song ended, I stood up from the audience, into the eyes is a vast life, the enchanting woman is like a night elf, has long disappeared, evaporated in this bright dance floor, I took a deep look at the empty stage, the head of the Yihong Courtyard in my mind, the Oiran in the green building, she is just like these women in the red dust, even if the light is full of style, but what kind of person is she under the stage? Will she also worry about the trivial things of life? Will you quietly look up at the boy you like during class? Will you also play the role of an inconspicuous spectator in the crowd cheering for him on the court?

Walking out of the performance hall, it was cold outside in the middle of the night, looking up, I saw her, under a street lamp in the distance, she was wearing a coat, but the short skirt had not had time to change, still thin stockings, shivering in the cold wind, walking alone, no one held her hand, no boy accompanied her, her thin figure just kept walking forward, the surrounding leaves were blown by the cold wind, her short skirt was blown by the cold wind, her body was shivering by the cold wind, but she kept her head down, the cold wind could not stop her from half a step, far away, I seemed to hear the sound of her high heels stepping on the ground, in the silence of the night, suddenly sounded, click, drifting into the depths of the night beyond the reach of the street lamp.

A song she had just sung on stage echoed in her ears, and it turned out that she was singing herself.

"Woman flowers, swaying in the red dust,

Woman flowers, gently swaying with the wind,

If you have smelled the fragrance of flowers,

Don't ask me, who are the flowers for......"

December 28, 2010