I drank too much with a few seniors last night, and I didn't want to go, but I was afraid that I would touch my senior's heart, shouting that you have you in your eyes, and if you don't go, you will be a little ignorant.

There is basically no speech at the dinner table, and I am the worst of the mix, not one of them. The only thing Zhang Mian can do is toast, to those who are older than him, and those who are younger than him.

Out of the hotel, a gust of wind made my stomach tumble, and I hurriedly found a tree, and I vomited, and my mouth and nose were spicy.

It was already nine o'clock in the evening when I got home in a daze.

When I woke up again, it was already seven o'clock, I opened the curtains, it was raining lightly outside, and the police uniform was drunk yesterday and I didn't take it home, and I needed to leave the station.

Today is Wednesday, and it's Zhang Mian's turn to go to the police station to work, but fortunately, I haven't forgotten this.

Outside, it was a drizzling winter rain, and Zhang Mian held an umbrella, as if he was surrendering to the city.

We are all children who surrendered to the city, only to get lost in the reinforced concrete.

I went to the institute to eat two buns and drink a bowl of oil tea, which eliminated the cold all the way.

Pack your things and get ready to take a taxi to the Coal University of Technology.

"Brother Xuan, I'll send you to school." Shengli looked at Zhang Mian, who was about to leave with an umbrella, and said.

"It's eight o'clock, and there are still ten minutes before the meeting, don't be scolded for sending me."

Victory, if you think about it, you don't insist.

Hop in a taxi and head south, the streets are deserted under the grey sky.

Many people don't like rainy weather, and feel that such weather makes people feel heavy, and it is easy to call out unhappy things in their hearts.

Zhang Mo doesn't like the weather, but he doesn't hate it, and he keeps some rain-related memories in his mind.

……

One morning many years ago, Zhang Mian and his grandmother were in the old house with blue bricks and gray tiles, Zhang Mian sat in the hall with his chin on his head, watching the rain from the tiles dripping from under the eaves, and forming small puddles under the ground at the door.

The sparrows flew from a distance to the branches of the tall poplars to hide from the rain, and Zhang Ming's grandmother was unhurriedly picking up soybeans in the dustpan, and several hens were scrambling to pick out the rotten beans at their feet.

It was a drizzle.

……

One summer evening, next to the intersection of Zhangjia Village, Zhang Mian helped his third aunt steam steamed steamed buns to sell, and after a thunderstorm on the ground, the wind was mixed with heavy rain.

Pedestrians on the road are running wildly.

Zhang Mian and his third aunt hurriedly received the basket and money box that sold steamed buns to the small shop next to them, but they didn't have time to take out the steamed buns in the pot, and the pouring rain smashed on the lid of the pot, and the steamed buns in the pot were completely soaked.

The burning wood in the stove lost its temperature completely after a struggle, and a puff of green smoke came out.

It was a torrential rain.

……

After the results of the college entrance examination were announced, Zhang Mian sat in the shadow of a rented house at the south gate of Fengcheng No. 1 Middle School, and the heavy rain outside the window swept the earth unscrupulously and swept his heart.

All that once had was drenched in a heavy rain.

Losing the list means failure, but also loss.

It was a rain of despair.

……

The rain has not stopped at noon today, and the police station is silent.

Zhang Mian used his lunch break to type the above words.

Comrade Haiyang yesterday suggested that Zhang Mian write more happy things.

His advice is right, life itself is not easy, and how many people are willing to read those sad words.

Even if the sad thing is profound.

Many readers read just for the pleasure of reading.

It's like Zhang Mian jokingly introducing a girlfriend with long legs to the ocean.

He would put down his phone, look at me very honestly, and ask Zhang Mian with a smile if it was real.

Every repetition is a repetition of his happiness.

Actually, it's what you hope to come true, I said in the log, then be happy.

Fiercely happy.