The last is Xia Shiliu, Xia Shiliu is completely obsessed with writing articles.

Since Ye Chen left, Xia Shiliu has been writing articles wholeheartedly every day in addition to cultivation.

Xia Shiliu's person, just like her article, is a single-minded character. Xia Shiliu was waiting for Ye Chen, and she had been waiting for Ye Chen, just like Su Xue.

Perhaps, what happened on the top of the mountain that day should not have happened.

But Xia Shiliu didn't regret it, at least now Xia Shiliu knew that Ye Chen would come back sooner or later. Xia Shiliu knew that Ye Chen would never abandon herself.

If it weren't for that day, Xia Shiliu and Ye Chen, after what happened on the top of the mountain. Maybe Xia Shiliu will choose to go home and marry someone she doesn't love. In the end, he gave birth to a group of children for someone he didn't love.

Compared with the above, Xia Shiliu still preferred to wait for Ye Chen alone. Perhaps, after Yan Hanyu's death, Xia Shiliu replaced Yan Hanyu.

Could it be that after Yan Hanyu is resurrected, Xia Shiliu will disappear in obscurity?

No, no, no, that's not what I want to see.

No, no, no, it's not everything I want to see.

No, no, no, that's not what I want to happen.

So, Xia Shiliu began to publish books and prose books. Nowadays, in the entire Western continent, almost everyone has a collection of Xia Shiliu's essays.

Whenever people finish eating and drinking tea, they will take out Xia Shiliu's prose collection and read it.

For example, this piece in Xia Shiliu's prose collection:

Nostalgia is an oil-paper umbrella, wrapped in a small space, covering the snow in winter. In my dreams under the shield, my hometown is outside the shelter, and I often see her vaguely in my dreams. I dreamed of her wide white feathers, under the clear sky, gently curled and covered with dry cow dung on the hairy road, thatched house, and cow pen roof of her hometown.

Nostalgia is a bundle made of grain grass, which is covered with strings of mountain red. Once upon a time, in the white memory, that little bit of mountain red, as bright as the sun, opened in my heart, the red dust and lead of the romantic world, fluttering huge wings, a slippery noise, waving a touch of passing years.

The shadow of nostalgia continued to enlarge in the pupils, and the snowflakes flew down, and the twilight and winter were overlapped by the snow-white riverbed. Like a girl who is ashamed to see a human face, she flies quietly, and quietly and timidly walks into the shuttle bus that belongs to her heart.

The ripe Gu Yue set up a purple jade flute, urging to speed up his pace. The nostalgia has changed from the gentleness of the past to spicy and spicy. The ancient river valley of the mountain cliff is not the flowering season of yearning for silver age, but in the melancholy and short, snow-white poetry, hazy and hesitant into the habitat waiting for you.

On a bright day, you put the strong country sound between the branches of the trees, so that the ancient countryside is painted with silver and white trees. Looking at the crowd hurriedly walking by at his feet, he smiled and shook off the fragrance under the long skirt, and sprinkled it lightly on the road, in the fields, and between the eyebrows of pedestrians.

In the off-season, the winter nights are so long and passionate. The villagers had nothing to do, so they worked in groups of three and five to sit and chat at night. On the warm kang head, listen to the old men talk about the "Three Kingdoms".

The speaker paints the voice, and the listener relish and is drunk. The house was filled with a pungent smell of dry smoke, and the spicy smell created a unique atmosphere of the farmhouse at night. Being in a foreign land, I like to invite one or two confidants to laugh in the room on a winter night, sit around the fireplace, and express my heartfelt feelings to each other.

The flames of the furnace were blazing and dancing, reflecting the radiant faces. The warmth dispelled the coldness of the winter night, and the thoughts collided, blended, and debauched in the unrestrained time and space, and it was hearty!

The days when your whole body is covered are the warmer and warmer days of your return. The wind and clouds revealed a swift explode, tearing apart the inspiration of the ice pole heaven and earth.

So you are furious, and you breathe out wisps of cold flames of time with the fragrance of plums, crushing the whole bleak wind and cold moon. It's like the stone mill of the cang, and it is cold in the valley.

The silver light reflected under the moon is like a whisper behind the sound of your flute. Will you return to the flowering period of the missed appointment?

In the eyes of you, you seem to have forgotten the mediocrity. You'd rather watch a lonely cold day under the lonely moon than cling to a blank space in your heart.

The nostalgia in winter has solidified the rain stream of love songs; The nostalgia in winter rang the bell of parting, blessed the wet dreamland, and slept hazy and melancholy in the vast sky.

This is one of Xia Shiliu's prose collections, how to write, not lazy. Gradually, Xia Shiliu's fame, in the Western Continent, the fame is getting bigger and bigger. Today's Xia Shiliu has become the only star on the Western continent.

Xia Shiliu's name is a household name on the Western continent. On the Western Continent, if you don't know Xia Shiliu's name, you will probably be ridiculed.

For example, the next article is also an article in Xia Shiliu's prose collection. I saw this article read:

I love snow because of my loyalty to the season, because in my heart I always feel that winter is cold and thin, but there is a lack of tolerance and softness, and there must be a good snow to fill the defects of the season. Snow has become the best excuse in my heart.

What is unsatisfactory is that for many years, I have not looked forward to the kind of elves that hovered in the sky and the whiteness of the ground that I saw in my childhood.

You say, is winter still called winter without snow? What is a year without snow? Winter is already cruel, and a gust of cold wind swept the mature autumn to the bottom of death.

It's a long silence, the trees are depressed, the mountains are discolored, the river is short of breath, the bottom of the throat is weak, and the countryside is dry and yellow.

Let's just talk about people, either basking in the sun in the corner of the house, or sitting by the stove to keep warm, or having to go out to make a living, but also coming and going in a hurry, and passing by in a hurry.

If there is no snow, it is not called a year, the cold wind blows strongly, the smog is everywhere, there is no energy to drink, and there is no mood to go out. Even the ethereal smoke of the cooking stove is weak because it is not moistened by the snow water, and the sound of firecrackers is also sharp and piercing and lacks majesty and heaviness.

Moreover, there are no boys who have snowball fights in the yard, and there are no little girls who build snowmen, and their popularity and aura are completely lost, is this still a year?

Look at the snowy winter months, and everything is different. As soon as the snow falls, the elderly and children have fewer colds and coughs, and the family welcomes the New Year in good health.

As soon as the snow falls, the coriander in the vegetable field in front of the door turns green, the garlic seedlings grow strong, and the big greens are green.