This is an era of ice and snow, and the big ramp where I came home from school as a child was covered with thick translucent ice, and walking on it was a bottomless abyss.

The slope looks like it's 45 degrees, and if it doesn't, it's definitely 37 degrees. It's the longest I've ever walked in my life, and it's been a testament to my youth.

In the dream, there was a very beautiful elf-like creature with wings in front of my eyes, and I was completely attracted to it, staring at it all the time, with a smile on my face.

I didn't notice whether I was wearing shoes or not, I only had a single shirt on my body, and I followed it up a thick ice slope.

My childhood friends, who followed me, were far away from me......

Recently, due to the official call to remain motionless. Mr. Liu, who has never liked to watch TV, was obsessed with the new world in a state of being bored at home and balancing with the sofa, but I abandoned the trail of procrastination and sloths as usual, and started to get up on time at home, cook, eat, take care of the baby, code words and sleep.

Accompanied by the opening song of the New World TV series "Strangers Are Kind", there is a particularly strong picture of a small ant crawling on the thick translucent ice. I think this shot is probably the source of my dreams.

The whole winter in Anzai town is covered with white snow, and if it is foggy at night, you can see the dry branches hanging with rime in the morning.

My room has a window by the south, outside the window is a community activity pavilion, fitness equipment, in the past is a channel, wooden plank road, green belt, asphalt road, green belt, channel, wooden plank road, middle school, there are two rows of Chinese street lamps that can illuminate the dark night.

When the construction was planned, my leader took us to the surrounding regimental fields to observe the roads that had been built in other regimental fields, and I had the honor to participate in the preliminary design, make renderings for it, and be responsible for supervising the construction duties.

I often lie in my room and can hear the bell of the middle school school and the end of the school day, and if I look at the window in a daze, I can see students in blue and white uniforms passing the traffic lights and making noise in the direction of the school. It reminds me a lot of my school days, and that's probably why I suddenly wanted to write this book.

When an ant crawled on my milky baby, I was very indignant and did not hesitate to use the whole family to destroy the ant. However, when I saw this footage, I suddenly felt like an ant. An ant that has been walking on thick, translucent ice. Small and humble.

These factors have incubated this frozen and snowy dream of mine, and can't help but remind me of my hometown.

My hometown is on the source of Shenhe, Shaanxi, at the foot of Wutai, where the beautiful Zhuhe River has flowed for thousands of years, raising this group of lovely people, and on the edge of the Jiahe River, there is my lovely alma mater.

This is what I heard every time I met a new Chinese teacher when I was in school. I liked it so much that I wrote it down. Unexpectedly, more than ten years have passed, and I think about it as if I only heard it yesterday. So beautiful, so fascinating.

When I was in middle school, I went back and forth between home and school every day, just like the children here. And my home is three kilometers away from the school. In the third year of junior high school and the third year of high school, my classmates and I were basically day students. I didn't live in school until my junior year of high school.

The days of going to school in those years were also the best times in youth, youth is not old, and we will never be old.

There are two paths to the school in this three-kilometer way, one path will pass through Qinglongling, the primary school (now it has become a public nursing home, a psychiatric adoption home), a 45-degree slope next to the town government, and then walk on the side of the Huhe River, there is a military school, passing through the market to reach the school; The other road passes through the primary school and into the village, with a large 37-degree ramp with a small stream flowing at the foot of the slope, and then goes up to the market to reach the school.

In those years of school, we all seemed to like the second path, which was small and seemed to be relatively close, which could be used to save time on the way to school.

But in the end, going to school is a downhill road, and going home from school is an uphill road. On the way to school, we often meet an old man with a scarred face who is practicing walking with a limp leg, and he always smiles and says to every child who looks at him, "At school, study hard!" "I was deeply moved.

Memories are like water in a stream, flowing down the village and into the river. In 2003, when the river flooded, it broke the embankment and flooded the surrounding villages, and one of my elementary school classmates lived on the west side of the embankment. I remember when I was in the first grade, I used to go to her house to play, dig loaches with her and her brother, make hooks, fish in the river, catch crabs, and the river used to flow in my best time.

At that time, I was able to write essays that were always praised by my teachers throughout my childhood, because I lived in the embrace of the Luhe River and Qinglongling, which were endowed by nature.

It's just that after the flood that year, I couldn't write any more words in my diary that made me feel good, only a few words that I couldn't even understand, and finally I didn't even have a diary, and who could understand the psychological mechanism behind this?

It was also that year that there was a little girl in the back of my house who was one year older than me, who had quit school and cried at home every evening, while I sat stupidly by the eaves and listened to what she was crying about.

When I was in the third year of junior high school, I met a good Chinese teacher, and in order to let us write beautiful compositions, my Chinese teacher once took us to Qinglongling to go on a hike, so that we could feel the beauty of spring in an immersive way.

However, that day, the heavenly palace was not beautiful, and when I arrived at the place, it was drizzling, but it also had a particularly poetic picture.

Our bustle provoked the little girl in the back of my house to come out and see, and her mother followed her, lest something else should happen to her.

My childhood best friend Wu Yang, because she is on the same village team as her family, is more familiar with her than me. In the drizzle, the little girl actually went home and brought an umbrella for Wu Yang, which was unexpected by me.

My Chinese teacher also knew her, so she told us to stay away from her, because she was said to be mentally ill.

I didn't understand it at the time, and I couldn't do it because our family lived in the front and back yards. In the evening, I used to read quietly in the hallway of my house, and for a while I often heard her crying. Time has passed, and I finally understand the good intentions of our teachers.

After all, growing up is a heart-rending peace, and we all inevitably suffer from pain.

Yesterday I had a video with my mother, she planted chestnut seedlings in the vegetable field, she wore a scarf and a hat, and said to me with a smile in the cold wind: "I can't go anywhere recently, your father and I are working in the field, transplanting some chestnut seedlings in the field, I don't know if I can bear fruit when I grow up, whatever, plant it first."

It dawned on me that this has always been their attitude towards life, and it has always influenced my lifestyle and way of thinking. And under their dedicated cultivation, I have also grown into a chestnut tree that is about to bear fruit, and I hope that I can become a chestnut tree, whether it is hanging fruit or not, I can move forward with those lovely friends in my life, rain or shine. For my milky soft and lovely baby, sheltered from the wind and rain in the depths of my soul.

Attached is a poem I wrote earlier:

I have left "Gone with the Wind".

Quicksand buries memories

The years can't afford to wait

Lovely people

There used to be a waiting place in that place

Hand in hand, I want to cherish it

But I can't stand it

Not to mention that we all want to believe

There is so much beauty that has not yet been experienced

There are so many walks that need to be walked alone

Then tell the people who are still waiting

I have left