Ping Yu is against a kind of love, innocent, passionate and passionate, so she even thinks: when love is displayed in another way, it is not completely torn up, but translated into a better language, and the names of the translators who were sent are called chance, responsibility, implication, silence, and nostalgia. Pen fun and pavilion www.biquge.info

Fang Sheng, this name, is like the bits and pieces of those translators planted in her heart......

Perhaps, is this an evasion? a kind of shirk?

At the thought of this, Ping Yu immediately got up from the bed, shook his head fiercely, and then fell headlong on the sofa next to the bed, standing upside down.

Hate, hate, hate.

In the past, Ping Yu always thought that love was a feeling, and even if it was painful, it would feel happy, love was an experience, and even if the heart was broken, it would feel sweet, and love was an experience, and even if it was broken, it would feel beautiful...... Some losses are predestined, and some fates will never come to fruition. Loving someone does not necessarily mean that you can have it, and loving someone does not necessarily mean that you can't give it up...... However, now, in her mind, she can't erase the bits and pieces that Fang Sheng once planted in her heart......

Memory. It's a sad word. Ping Fu felt that if she could lose her memory again, she would really be very happy.

However, where is the memory of Pingfu?

She hoped that the memory was not in her mind, and that even if she was talking in her dreams, she would never express it that truthfully; she hoped that the memory was not in her drunken madness, that kind of confiding was a kind of self-talk, and no one could remember or forget her heart, including herself; of course, she especially hoped that the memory was not in her long conversation with him, and that that kind of pouring out and listening had become a kind of exchange.

Maybe only when she's dead will none of this exist?

Everything was gone, all her efforts were in vain, all her hard work was in vain, her humiliation, shame and resentment were all gone.

She will walk through this world silently, and no one knows what she has been through, what she has done, and what she has done all those stupid things for.

The terrible thing is that she herself no longer exists, and she can't even feel sorry for it.

In the future, no matter what she does, she will not be able to get rid of this desperate fate.

In despair, he sank deep into a strange couch, standing upside down, as if falling into an endless darkness and fear.

Imagine that. People always step on the earth and look at the blue sky, but only when they act like a jumper, with their heads down, they see that their feet can step on the blue sky.

Imagine if it fell faster and faster, if the wind became stronger and stronger in her face, and before she hit the ground, she prayed to herself: suffocate first.

Ping Yu fell down on the sofa all of a sudden, sat up from the sofa again, and the dream disappeared, and he was just sweating, trembling, and illusory.

Ping Fu felt that he had to flee immediately and run out was the best choice.

She quickly gathered her self-image, escaped from the guest house, and walked down the street where it was already dark.

In the early summer morning sunshine, people feel like they are still in Tonghai City, and everything seems to be no longer strange.

At this moment, Ping Fu seems to have finally gotten rid of the entanglement of nightmares, and what he meditates in the depths of his heart is: "In this world, all those hateful people, in fact, if they explore his heart, are just very pitiful people after all." ”

Ping Yu suddenly remembered what she had said to Fang Sheng.

The saddest poem in the Book of Songs is: "Death and life are broad, happy with the son, holding the hand of the son, and growing old with the son." ”

When Ping Fu told Fang Sheng, he swore and said, "I see, life and death and parting are all major matters, and they are not at our disposal. Compared with the forces of nature, how small and helpless we human beings are! What I can do is what I say, you must keep it firmly in mind! I tell you: I want to be with you forever, we will never be separated for the rest of our lives, we will accompany each other, we will grow old together. ”

It is precisely the kind of love that Pingfu has always appreciated: there is not too much vigorous and earth-shattering, but there is a sweet feeling that stretches like flowing water;

This should be a feeling of "holding the hand of the son, growing old with the son", in the strange crowd, between the lost and hesitating, but always serene and calm......

Because I know that in the dark, I have a pair of hands that belong to me, holding my hands tightly, and accompanying myself through all the winds, rainstorms, fog, and sunny days until I am alive.

Love is beautiful, although some love may not be moving, and people in love are beautiful, although they are ordinary.

The poetess Shu Ting once described such a scene: on the street, a serene old woman and a calm old man smiled, approaching each other from different directions, approaching each other, and then smiling, standing between their noses, their hands tightly tied together, the sun behind them dyed their hair and smiles a warm sunset red, and the people around them were infected by their happiness into a warm orange.

At the beginning of his relationship with Fang Sheng, Ping Yu always doubted whether his love with him existed, because after all, it was not as perfect, so exquisite, and so romantic as he originally thought. It was just a faint feeling, there was no great joy or great sorrow, there were no nine hundred and ninety-nine roses and no sorrow of the soul of the blue bridge......

It's just a feeling of holding hands, shoulder to shoulder, strolling.

Some people say that marriage is a besieged city, and those who enter it want to come out, but Ping Fu thinks that it is good to hold hands and walk into the city together calmly, supporting each other, and turning many unmoving days into a string of beautiful scenery.

Now that he recalls it, Ping Xuan smiled dumbly.

She has to admit that all the ordinary fragments of life, all the times that she has complained about and doubted, are actually the warmest, most tranquil and most romantic chapters in her life;

The so-called "holding the hand of the son, growing old with the son." It should be this wonderful feeling of standing side by side, gazing at the rising and setting of the sun, and it should be a feeling of changing the sky, the earth, and the same feelings, right?

The truth is that Fang Sheng completely deceived her.

Yes, time can dilute everything, but there are always some things that are long and rotten, right?

There is always a kind of love that is as persistent as a mountain, as deep as the sea, and as vast as the sky, right?

Ping Yu hallucinated that when it was raining, he was lonely looking at the dripping rain line, and his mood was helplessly depressed; at this time, an umbrella was stretched out from the side to cover her from the rain and gloom; without looking back, he knew that he was like a mountain, like the sea, and like a blue sky, and he was standing next to him, and there was a very warm, very down-to-earth, and very beautiful feeling came to his heart: let the rain fly, and let the sky be dark.

Remember, time is forever, for the sake of eternal memories in the future?

Some people say that time can dust everything, but there are always things that are always new, right?

Hold your lover's hand, and all life, all bright or not-bright days, become new and bright.

Time always keeps moving, and when I look back, I don't realize that I am covered with dirt, just like Pingfu is still willing to blindfold, and unreservedly wants to give his hands to this lover who thinks he is living and living.

But......

Ping Yu really wants to cry without tears.

Holding the hand of the son, where is the realm of growing old with the son?

When a woman cries, someone accompanies her to be sad, listens to her, smooths her messy hair and haggard face, and tells her how good it is that tomorrow will still be sunny, and when a woman smiles brightly, the whole world is bright with her, and he stands quietly aside, smiling and watching the woman as beautiful and brilliant as the sun, how good.

In that realm, every moment is so beautiful, every moment is a moving love poem, and every moment is worth reminiscing with all the time.

Maybe I don't have an aftertaste, I just hold my lover's hand tightly, don't say anything, and slowly accompany my lover through this life, this life, and the next life.

But, is there a Pingshu? There will be no more ......

Pingfu felt the taste of his heart being devoured by a poisonous snake. Grieved. Disgrace. Shame. Hate. Impatient. Even mercy.

She has understood the pity behind every ridiculous and sarcastic heart, so "because she understands, she is merciful."

She knows that she understands too well, and there is no romance.

For the sake of the future, for the sake of beauty, and for the sake of justice, she had no choice but to choose to flee and leave the man she thought she once loved.

And, must, completely, bewitch him! resolutely, resolutely, completely, forbid him to continue screaming like a butterfly.

When the mind is decided, the peace of mind is much calmer and calmer.

The rest is action.

So, he sat down cross-legged, and together with the faint green of the green meadow, in the bright sun, there was a kind of mystery.

I saw her eyes closed, her hand stretched over her head, and the words in her mouth: Come on, my screen image.

So, she seemed to see scenes and scenes, on the red curtain as the bottom of the heavenly spirit cover, showing an alternative life.