Twigs:

See the words like meeting.

I never told you about that hellish experience.

Near Nanming High School, next to the dilapidated steel mill, you know there's a wasteland. In 1988, when I was still in my third year of high school here, I used to play soccer with my classmates, and every time I kicked the ball to the factory wall, I picked it up. One day it was late in the night, and when I climbed over the fence, I looked back and saw that everyone was gone. Winter darkens early, and the wind howls. The factory in front of him was empty, only the factory in the witch area, and a large area of withered barren smoke and vines.

Legend has it that it is the easiest time to bump into ghosts.

Sure enough, I saw her.

She came out of the weeds, wearing a narrow cheongsam, not afraid of the cold. Her hairstyle was the one you see in the movies, looking at me with strange eyes. I was only 17 years old at the time, and she actually took the initiative to talk to me, in a soft Cantonese accent, I can't remember what we talked about, but it wasn't fear. I followed her down the cold ruins, watching the cold night slowly descend and the crescent moon rise on top of the crumbling chimney. I saw the sadness in the corners of her eyebrows, and listened to her tell interesting stories about that era, as well as her short life. Her twenty-five-year-old face is frozen in this wilderness, and will not be changed or hurt again.

Time turned into a thick dust, and she was still vividly buried in the dust of the house.

As a teenager, I stood under the cold crescent moon, holding a soccer ball in my arms, the weeds singing beside me, and the wind blowing my simple eyes.

She gave me a smile, but she wouldn't take me away.

So, I grew up like everyone else. I was admitted to university and stepped into society, but instead of changing the world, I was changed by the world, so that she could no longer recognize me.

At that time, I was already old.

Born in 1910 and died on March 8, 1935, she was buried in the Cantonese cemetery, which was later demolished to make way for a factory, and her skeleton was integrated with the Witch Quarter.

Will I die at the age of twenty-five like her?

Your teacher Ming

8 March 1995

In the fall of 2011, Xiaozhi returned to Nanming High School and also became a Chinese teacher.

She sat alone in the corner of the library, spreading out the sixteen-year-old letterhead, the yellowed letterhead covered in the neat and beautiful handwriting of the statement.

Before the eleventh long holiday, on the last day of school, Ouyang Xiaozhi stepped into the school library. I don't know how many times I've been there, but despite the legend of the mysterious little attic, it's still her favorite place. In those days, there was no Internet, and textbooks could not satisfy the thirst for knowledge at all, and every book was so cherished. She used to sit in the reading room for two hours at a time, and sometimes she forgot to eat dinner......

Today, the library has been renovated, the reading room is still in its old place, and the tables and chairs have been renewed. The collection has increased a lot, but there are still books that are more than 10 years old. After wandering through the shelves for a long time, I finally found the book "The Rise and Fall of the Third Reich", the blue cover with Hitler's portrait. Turning to the last page, there is a yellowed library card, and the word "declaration" is hidden in those dense names. She put the library card to her lips, as if she could smell the scent of her previous life. I don't know how many times I've borrowed the book, but no one has ever discovered the secret, and it's on the back of this thick card that someone has sketched her face in pencil.

Why did you choose "The Rise and Fall of the Third Reich"? Because, how can a girl read such a book?

In 1995, there was a movie that was released in Japan, and it actually had the same plot.

Suddenly, there was one more person in the library, Ouyang Xiaozhi put away the letters of the year, and stuffed the book "The Rise and Fall of the Third Reich" back into the bookshelf.

She hid behind the bookshelf, observing the man through the books—was he again?

This freshman named Si Wang, who was familiar with the reading room, ran his fingers across the rows of books, almost flashing in front of her eyes.

His hand rests on a spine, which is "The Rise and Fall of the Third Reich". Si Wang decisively pulled out the book, turned directly to the last page, took out the library card behind him, and put the card to his lips.

Impossible, Ouyang Xiaozhi's same move just now would not have been seen by him.

After a long time, Si Wang put the book back, looked up at the small attic, and left the library.

Only then did she dare to breathe loudly, hiding behind the second-floor window, watching his back on the playground.

Half an hour later, Ouyang Xiaozhi returned to the teacher's office, there were no other teachers in the room, some were still eating in the cafeteria, and some had gone home early. On the table is a pile of language homework collected this morning, and the computer screensaver screen is Fujii Tree and Fujii Tree in "Love Letter". A wave of exhaustion hits, and I was about to sit on the chair and close my eyes to recuperate, but my hand touched the mouse and destroyed the screensaver screen.

Only then did she notice that there was a piece of paper under the mouse, on which a few lines of poetry were written in someone's handwriting.

A few times the flowers sat down and gave a, and the red wall of the silver man looked into the distance.

It seems that this star is not last night, for whom the wind is exposed and the midnight is upset.

Lingering thoughts and pulling out the cocoon, like turning the heart to peel off the banana.

In March and May of three or five years, the poor glass of wine never went away.

Qing Dynasty poet Huang Zhong is the fourteenth of the famous "Sixteen Songs of Qihuai".

Not only did she remember the poem, but she also remembered the handwriting vividly, and it never changed...... Ouyang Xiaozhi sat down on the chair, touched his heart, took out the old letter from his bag, and compared this ink poem with the handwriting of the statement back then—almost certainly written by the same person!

Subconsciously reached for the teacup, but knocked the cup over, and the entire table was filled with rose tea. She scrambled to clean up, drying the countertop with a whole pack of napkins, the paper was all wet, I wonder if it would melt the ink? She distressed and put the paper with Huang Zhongze's poems by the window, pressed the paperweight and dried it.

Twig rushed out the door, looking around bewildered, the hallway was so crowded that anyone could have broken into the office, anyone could have a ghost riding around their neck.

Finally, she set her sights on the rooftop of the multipurpose building, from where she had a good view of her office.

It seems that this star is not last night, for whom the wind is exposed and the midnight is upset.