Although my father was a down-and-out scholar, he had a very good standard of conduct and behavior. There is no debt in life, and there is no debt in reason.

The accounts are clearly recorded, and the rice harvested after the autumn must be returned in time. If you talk about poetry, you must be very elegant. Elegant and incomprehensible, mixed with a few stiff ancient words.

Others said that he had drunk too much wine last night and fell asleep in the sewage ditch, so he said: "Whoever has no fault, can change it, and it is very good", and after a few days he was still lying in the stinky ditch.

If you ask him why you don't get into a university because you love to read so much. He said, "My life has an end, and my knowledge has no end." There is no end to the cliff, and there is no end", in short, what he does is based on evidence.

He always hopes that those poems with jerky rhymes and feet can be appreciated, but they are often laughed at. Over time, learn to entertain yourself. No matter what poem is recited, "good poem, good poem" must be added at the end to show emotion.

He taught me that "life must be happy, don't make the gold bottle empty to the moon" suddenly thought that there was no wine around me, so he must let me buy wine before he was willing to say the next sentence. The poems he taught me were never inseparable from wine.

"Persuade you to have a glass of wine, and there is no one in Yangguan in the west. ”

"Raise a glass to invite the bright moon, and the shadow becomes a trio"

He said that reciting poems, there are paintings in poems, and there are poems in paintings, and only by going deep into their realm can they be understood. So I naturally took the wine with me to find Yangguan and the flowers.

His only job was to help people in the village with paperwork. Write some notices and revise the genealogy. Work is extremely responsible, even if it rains at night and someone knocks on the door, it must be written neatly and then sent to the door.

My father is a well-known fear of guilt in the village, and he has always laughed a lot, apologized a lot, made a lot of vows, and regretted the most.

He likes music and plays an erhu with one hand. Drink some wine and shake your head under the banyan tree at the entrance of the village. Sometimes he hums two sentences of Huangmei tune - sometimes out of tune, sometimes sad.

He is an artist at heart, and he has no choice but to be a farmer. He didn't like martial arts, or I remember him always sneering at them. thinks that it is the world's first fancy trick, a reckless move.

If it weren't for my mother's angry eyes, let him not worry about my studies. I must have pulled the erhu at the entrance of the village today to shake my head and change my head—sometimes sad, sometimes out of tune.

Although my father is very principled, he has to discount several layers of fine wine.

That's when I see Limbo every year.

The eldest uncle gave him a jar of ten-year-old rice wine, and he ran away from home with the jar in his arms. Runway outside the village to see the vegetable garden in the grass hut.

When we met him, there were many poems written on the walls, and he said that inspiration had come, and he was looking for a quiet place.

His mother wanted to divorce him, and that was the most violent trouble. I stayed at my grandfather's house for half a month before I came back.

I sat next to my hospital bed, my room white as snow in the afternoon sun. I talked to him about the past, and he lost a lot of weight and had a prominent frontal bone. The smile is also extremely reluctant. The figure is like a dead wood.

"The ideal is too beautiful, the ability is insufficient, and the life is too tiring. ”

That's probably the sum up of his life.

My mother came once a day, wiped my father's body, fed him, and wept silently in the hallway. Afraid of being known, I always shouted through the screen, I'll go back, take care of your father.

She never wanted to let people know her weak side.