For a long time, the snowflakes in Luoyang have been gentle and elegant, far less passionate and unrestrained than the snowflakes on the banks of the Huai River.

I later learned that many areas in the Huaihe River basin, such as Henan and Anhui, suffered a rare heavy snowstorm that year, and the snowflakes of that year were wantonly underground in the south, backlogged dozens of centimeters deep, and many houses in the south collapsed, even causing many casualties.

And that year, the heavy snow in Luoyang was also very heavy, and it lasted until Chinese New Year's Eve and did not stop the snowflakes.

In the days when the snow fell, I stayed alone in the dormitory, quietly staying in the dormitory, studying the book "Data Structures and Algorithms".

When I was hungry, I used the small electric pot given by the dormitory aunt to cook porridge in the dormitory, accompanied by pickles that I secretly bought before the holiday.

Time passed quickly, it was Chinese New Year's Eve that morning, I opened my eyes at 5 o'clock, sat on the bed wrapped in a quilt and looked out the window to see the sky getting whiter and whiter.

The campus is quiet, and the dormitory building is still opposite the dormitory building. However, the dark window lattice reflects the white colors in the distance, and if you look closely, you can see the white velvet roof in the distance.

When the sky dawns, the white earth that comes into your eyes is like a gentle snow-white bedding, and all the filth of the world is covered underneath.

The whole heaven and earth are so pure and unblemished.

I just sat under the covers and looked out the window, so excited that I burst into tears.

When my nose was blocked, I lifted the quilt, put on an old sweater, wrapped myself in the newly bought red duck down jacket that was supposed to be used for the first day of the Lunar New Year, and ran down the stairs, out of the dormitory, and into the white snow.

I was the only one on the whole campus, and there was only the sound of snowflakes falling in the white sky.

I ran on the snow as if I wanted to leave something behind, breaking the loneliness and silence.

On each snowflake-covered ground, I carefully stepped on my shoe prints, and I turned my feet at angles, spun my toes, and stepped on a circle of garlands.

I rushed to the playground and ran lap after lap on the faintly recognizable playground track, and I deliberately imprinted the entire track with my own footprints.

I prove to God: no matter how dark the past is, no matter how miserable my heart is, I live, I live well, I want to live well, I want to live well.

Let the north wind howl, let the cold air enter with my mouth and nose, tingle my heart and lungs, and let the snowflakes fall on the top of my hair and shoulders.

I ran until I couldn't breathe well, I was so tired that I couldn't lift my legs anymore, and finally lay unscrupulously on a large patch of snow on the side of the playground track, listening carefully to the falling snowflakes in the sky, and seemed to whisper to me.

I lay on the thick snowflake-covered bedding with my face and neck, and let the snow fall on my face and neck, turning into snow and flowing into my eyes and neck.

I looked at the ice-edged dead wood on the side of the playground, the soft and lovely snow coats wrapped on it, the snow-covered earth and the white sky, and the scenes about snow in the depths of my memory were hurriedly projected in my mind, and I burst into tears again:

It was also a snowy winter, and it was also a night that I didn't know if it was late at night or early in the morning.

I was 14 years old.

I finally suppressed everything that happened to me when I was 13 years old, fought hard to survive with a young heart, worked hard to selectively lose memory, and resumed normal junior high school study and life.

But if you want to go to school, you still have to walk through that road, that sinful place...

That path became the path of life that I feared the most, but had to take to pass.

It was a cruel and dirty road that I had to tread and face on the way to study.

That year, my township middle school opened an exceptional Olympiad mathematics course, which was scheduled to be "make-up" every weekend.

At that time, after leaving school every Friday, I was alone step by step to measure the mountain road, and it was already late when I walked to my grandmother's house 20 miles away, and in the early morning of the next day, in order to catch up with the Olympiad course that started at 8 o'clock on Saturday morning, I still had to set off early on Saturday morning.

Since there was no watch and no alarm clock, my grandmother and I could only listen to the rooster crow to roughly judge the time. But it was very early that day, and the first time the rooster crowed, my grandmother got up to pour the night pot, and she went out of the wooden door, and almost fell on the threshold, only to find that the threshold and the ground were covered with a thick layer of snow.

At that time I was sleepy and wanted to sleep a little longer. But we didn't know the time, so I had to finish my meal early, get dressed, pack up, half-lie down, surrounded by the quilt, and dreaming shallowly.

Wait and see, wait and see.

In fact, we don't know what we're waiting for.

I may be waiting for the dawn to come, but I'm afraid that it will really dawn - if it is dawn, I will be late.

My grandmother counted the roosters in her ears, and from time to time she left the cold bed to discern the color of the sky outside the door, and I was half-asleep, and I had all the fearful dreams of being late for class that day.

These dreams made me subconsciously think that I still couldn't snooze, and it was time to go, or I was really going to be late.

With regret and regret, I got up completely.

My grandmother stuffed me with some rags in the shoes, and since I couldn't find a plastic bag, I had to free up the bag of salt, barely wrap the soles of my feet, and tie the laces tightly to prevent the snow from soaking my feet and catching cold.

The snow was so deep that I couldn't find the road at all.

My grandmother helped me find a stick of firewood that was almost as high as my shoulder from the pile of firewood accumulated by the heavy snow in my neighbor at the door, and let me use it to explore the snow road to avoid being knocked down by the uneven mountain road.

On that night, I didn't know when, with a desire to study, I set off with my schoolbag on my back, crutches, and snowflakes.

I cautiously took the stick and tried it, one foot deep and one shallow, and walked cautiously.

Because the road surface in the mountain village was full of potholes, and the snow covered such a thick layer, I couldn't help but step on the air and fall down all at once.

Get up, find the stick, and keep groping.

Because of the soft snowflakes, even if you fall, it doesn't hurt as much as you imagined.

The soles of my feet quickly became sweaty, and the waterproof salt bags wrapped in the soles of my feet slipped on the soles of my shoes, and although I was covered in sweat, my hands were cold and my fingers slowly became stiff. In the end, I was so cold that I couldn't hold the stick, so I rubbed my hands in one breath, and when my hands were conscious and I could hold the stick, I continued to grope forward.

I felt like I had been walking for a long, long time, but when I turned my head, I found that the black outline of the mountain village behind me seemed to be glued to my back.

I walked and walked, and fell and fell, and about halfway through, I fell my head and pinned a stick to my wrist.

Twisted wrist hurts.

I didn't have the strength to get up with my hands, so I just sat in the snow and waited.

Actually, I don't know what I'm waiting for.