Chen Feng didn't cry.

He was calm, calm as a pool of stagnant water, undisturbed.

He took the paper out of the drawer, held the pen and began to write, and it was obvious that he was writing a story.

But at this time, Chen Feng, who is beginning to collapse in a psychological defense, is the most unsuitable for writing stories, he can't concentrate on mental ideas, can't calmly sort out the plot, and even the fluency of writing has become a problem.

This is probably the worst story he has ever written in this world.

Why bother?

Wouldn't it be better to just hand it in? Such a masterpiece, even if there is a global barrier, cannot hide the light.

He is not a gentleman, he has no so-called moral purity, and there is no resistance to plagiarism, and in this world, this kind of thing is not plagiarism at all.

He wrote stubbornly, expressionless, and the story naturally lost a lot of meaning.

The story is very short, a few hundred words long, a chicken soup for the soul-style story, Chen Feng sealed the paper into an envelope and passed it to Gu Man.

He seemed to be on the wrong path, and went farther and farther, put down his pen and put the letter in a drawer, and before that, he read it again.

"Have you ever remembered that when you hit the water in the middle stream, the waves curb the flying boat."

……

Gu Man did not receive Chen Feng's manuscript immediately.

She left home and went to a symposium where she lectured on a highly respected scholar.

“…… When writing, it should be like the wind and clouds, like the mountains and the sea...... The wind is ethereal and invisible, free and uninhibited...... Clouds, tangible and light, move with the wind...... The vastness of the sea, embracing all rivers and swallowing all things......"

The tone of the tone is subdued and frustrating, which makes people sound unconsciously energetic.

Gu Man sat in the seat very far in the front, listening while writing some points with a pen, she devoted herself to it, the tip of the pen was like a dancing elf, and the person was like a fairy in the mortal world.

Serious people are always the most beautiful.

Song Xin sat on the side and looked at her daughter proudly, the corners of her mouth were slightly upturned, and her smile bloomed like a delicate flower, which amazed a large number of people around her, and their eyes were like black bears smelling honey, looking rudely.

She frowned, glanced around coldly, and those people lowered their heads one after another, and there was a sudden chill in their hearts, and they didn't dare to make the slightest sound.

Gu Man snorted, the pen in his hand wrote faster, perhaps, there is such a noble and cold woman as a mother, as a daughter, she also feels a lot of pressure.

The two-hour symposium seemed surprisingly short, for most people, they benefited a lot, but they were still unsatisfied, and when they left the venue, they were talking in groups of three or two, mostly with their own feelings.

There is fanaticism in their eyes, as if they have mastered some great secret; If Chen Feng was there, he would probably think that he had entered a pyramid scheme den.

However, in this world, aren't literature and knowledge synonymous with wealth and status?

Gu Man sat in his seat and didn't move, for others, the symposium was over, and her "class" had probably just begun.

I don't know if Chen Feng's manuscript has been written, hey, that guy is really worrying, the manuscript will be closed the day after tomorrow, do I have to prepare one first? …… She rested her hand on her chin and froze, something she had never done before.

"Manman, this is Old Zhou." Song Qian stood beside an old man with a smile, and introduced her daughter to her daughter, her posture was very low, like a little maid of the old man.

"Hello Zhou." Gu Man came back to her senses and shouted sweetly, she had a heartfelt reverence for this old man.

Zhou Changming.

His life, taken out casually for a period of time, is a big drama, and those big dramas are gathered in one person, and they have become a legend.

"The little girl is polite, good, good." Zhou Changming smiled, like a kind old man.

Song Qian, who was beside her, was overjoyed when she heard this, and introduced: "Her name is Gu Man, and she is eighteen years old this year. ”

"In the mood for love, it is a good seedling." Zhou Changming continued to boast, his tone as kind as ever.

Gu Man stood a little restrained, his hands were twisted together, his face was red, he seemed to be shy, and he didn't know what to say or do.

"Old Zhou, you look at her," Song Qian looked at her daughter's performance, secretly anxious in her heart, and when she thought of that incident again, she knocked on the side with some vague sidekicks.

"I know what you think, let's go to the inner room and talk, it's crowded here." Zhou Changming suddenly asked.

The group walked into the inner room, which was a simple room, a table with paint off, and a few identical stools.

Zhou Changming sat at the table, and the servant in a plain robe poured a cup of tea for him and Song Qian's mother and daughter, and withdrew.

"It's been more than ten years." The old man's expression became a little lonely, and he said in a nostalgic tone, "I met your father in this house at the beginning, and it is difficult for you to learn from this trip. ”

"Don't dare, this is what I should do as a junior." Song Qian owed.

Zhou Changming took a sip of tea, shook his head, and said, "You, everything is good, it's too much, it's too ......."

"It's too shrewd, isn't it, when my father was alive, he often said that I was too tired and too bitter to live like this, but I always thought that if I am more tired and harder, the older generation can worry less about it, and the next generation can also waste less energy, do you think this is the truth?" Song Qian took over the conversation and said to herself.

"That's right, but I overstepped it," Zhou Changming looked like he wanted to say something, and finally sighed, "That guy from Old Song, it's too early, leave you alone, all these years ......"

……

Gu Man sat on the chair and listened to the two of them talking about the short story of the family, she knew that it would be a long conversation.

Before she knew it, she was in a daze again.

…… These people, things, and the levels he has come into contact with are all things he has never seen before, and perhaps, he will never see these places in his life......

Gu Man thought about it, and he was a little sad.

Where Chen Feng can't see, what about these?

He couldn't see Hong Xie sitting quietly in the study, he couldn't see the joy and comfort on his face, he couldn't see that he had collected those few pieces of paper like a treasure in the bookcase, and sent the one he had transcribed to a distant place.

He couldn't see Ke Qiqi in front of the computer screen in the middle of the night, couldn't see her hysteria and gnashing her teeth, couldn't see her pre-signed "I'm crazy about songs" under her name, but for various reasons, she deliberately treated it coldly.

He couldn't see somewhere in the distance, and he couldn't see a group of people discussing it head-on, just for a monk, a lotus, and a love......

Where he can't see, there's still a lot of ...... But at least, he could see the road under his feet, from the moment he picked up his pen and stubbornly wrote the story.

It's good, it's good, after all.