"The moon is hidden in the west, hanging in a faint shadow."

Mu Zi'an pressed these folds, his heart became more and more irritable, and finally he reached out and tore off the piece of paper, crumpled it into a ball, and threw it in the corner. He leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes slightly, and let out a long sigh of relief.

The clock on the wall, walking unhurriedly, Mu Zi'an looked at the mountains of textbooks and exercises on the desk, threw the pen casually, and fell down on the bed, covering the quilt, and fell asleep.

The night is getting deeper and deeper, and the moon hanging in the sky slowly moves its feet, and finally hides in the west, hanging into a faint moon shadow. Winter nights are so quiet that you can even hear the sound of frost falling. I don't know when it started, the sound of wheels turning in the alley, and the sound of footsteps from far and near.

"Drink porridge, buy fritters ......", a high-pitched and long shout, breaking the silence in the alley. The breakfast seller was an old man riding an old-fashioned girder bicycle with a rattan basket with a double basket hanging from the saddle. In a basket there is a large bucket of porridge, in order to keep warm, the outside of the bucket is wrapped in a small quilt, and the inside of the lid of the barrel is a layer of gauze to keep warm. When the lid of the bucket was opened, the aroma of porridge overflowed with the heat, and in an instant, the whole alley was filled with the sweetness of porridge. In another basket, there are freshly cooked fritters. Those fritters, after a long time of bumps, are mostly wilted and nested in them, like children who have not woken up yet, with worried eyes.

The old man shouted and rode slowly through the alley. The new day kicked off in this warm sunshine, in the sweet fragrance of porridge, and in the shouting of the old man.

When Mu Zi'an woke up, he smelled the sweet aroma of porridge. He walked out of the bedroom and saw his mother busy at the dining table. On the table were two bowls of porridge, a few fried dough sticks, and a small plate of pickles. In the faint, thick heat, Mu Zi'an's mother communicated with Mu Zi'an as usual, as if yesterday's events had never happened at all.

After a night's rest, Mu Zi'an's mother's face looked much better, and her original haggard expression no longer existed. After many years, Mu Zi'an understood his mother's strength and forbearance, which is one of the reasons why he finally woke up.

"Let's eat, go to class after eating", Mu Zi'an's mother pulled her hair behind her ears and whispered through the heat. Mu Zi'an hummed, and then buried his head and pulled the porridge in the bowl.

The room was silent, and the sound of chewing food echoed clearly.

When Mu Zi'an came to the school, the sound of reading on the campus came and went, and Song Yisheng, the director of academic affairs, stood in the middle courtyard and looked at Mu Zi'an from a distance with an almost forced look. Mu Zi'an is used to seeing such eyes, so it is commonplace. He glanced at Director Song and walked towards the classroom.

Teacher Li was already standing in the classroom, she checked the students' recitations as usual, and when she saw Mu Zi'an, she reached out and patted him on the shoulder, asking him to hurry up and recite the book.

After more than ten minutes, Ms. Li began to comment on the essays of the previous days, and selected a few excellent essays to read in the class. Teacher Li's beautiful voice sounded in the classroom, soft, and in such a winter morning, it brought students a very ironing feeling.

Lin Yawen sat in the classroom, quietly listening to those excellent compositions, and envied those students who could write such wonderful compositions from the bottom of his heart.

"Next, let's look at another essay", Ms. Li flicked back her shawl long hair, and those black hairs danced lightly above her waist like dense aquatic plants in the lake.