The sunset in late spring shines on the street of Conglou, and the cars are like flowing water, and the people are like ants. He wore a single coat and followed the footsteps of the people, and from time to time he glanced at the unfamiliar one. The city is so big that I can find my home there, walking in the dark, dim street lamps, and intoxicating the streetscape. The pedestrians walked in twos and threes, talking and laughing, he looked up at the pedestrians, the gentle light softened the people's eyes, looked at the figures they walked by, his hands touched his grunting muscles and abdomen and trembled, turned around and continued to move forward. Most of the shops on both sides of the street were closed, and the lights on the doors of the inns were still flickering, inviting visitors. Walking and looking up, I saw the brilliant place of the lights, where it was, and I was like a moth to the fire, so I went there.

When I walked in, I saw that there was a railway station in front of me, and the building was brightly lit and people were shaking, and the square outside was also brightly lit, with people coming and going. I walked across the sidewalk to the square, it was the station, what did I do there, I came to the city, my footsteps were not yet steady, but I still walked over, and the atmosphere was lively. When I came to the door of the ticket hall, I was greeted by a hot air current, a warm and stiff face, and a smile was caressed. He didn't hesitate to stride in, standing in the middle of the crowd The ticket window is partially open, waiting in line, people from outside come here, people here go outside, the journey has no end. He looked around, there was a row of people leaning against the window wall, he went to stand down, and when he felt the heat behind him, he bent down curiously to inquire into the tangori, there were pipes in it, and his fingers felt the heat, wasn't this what people called heating? He stood up and guarded the warm sun, and looked at the ticket window in front of him, and the LCD showed that it was 9 o'clock. The public security policeman carried a baton, walking back and forth in the crowd, looking at this side, he was a little scared, did he come to find someone without a ticket, but he said that he didn't steal or rob, and he wouldn't do anything to himself. When the policeman saw him coming, he became uneasy, did he find out that he was a refugee? He thought about the cold outside, no, he couldn't let him drive me out, and he had an idea to come up with a way, so his heart became calm, and when he looked at the police, he had already turned his face. He laughed silently, silently saying that he could escape the cold wind tonight. The noise in the station was uninterrupted, and the people at the door came and went until after eleven o'clock, when the number of people gradually decreased, and he squatted down with some fatigue, hugged his legs, and slept with his forehead on his knees and closed his eyes.

The lights outside the house were out, but the lights in the house were still on, and the light was scattered, diluting the darkness of the square, and sparse walking figures could be seen. The deep sky is full of stars, and the city is going to sleep. The train whistle sounded, smashing the rails and walking in. Only one window was open in the ticket hall, and a few people stood in piles, asking for tickets. The police sat at the bar counter playing tons, and there was a row of people sitting by the window, most of them sleeping with their heads hugged, and a few walking back and forth without tiredness. The policemen came over and shouted, "Close the door, close the door, go out" Most of the people reluctantly moved their steps, and the policeman walked to the one who was still sleeping, and went over to wake him up. Everyone went out, locked the glass door, and the police left, and he came over and climbed through the window to look at the brightly lit ticket hall inside the glass wall, and said to himself that it was empty. The warmth was palpable, and he shuddered away, walking around the square, looking up at the sky for a long time, and sighing at the cold stars. There were sleeping bunks in the corridor in front of the door, and he smiled and said that it seems that everyone is a prepared wanderer, and I don't know how long I can stay up on this cold night. The door to the waiting hall was open, and there were two doormen standing in the door, and the passenger walked inside, and he stood and watched, how nice it would be if he had slipped into the waiting room. He stood aside and followed the passengers into the door, he was worried about looking at the ticket, and tried his best to hide his fear, the person in front of him was carrying a large bag, and he followed closely. The doorman didn't ask for a ticket, and the person in front of him went in, and he laughed at himself. He walked past the doorman and strode in, shouting behind his ear, "Which one you come out, your ticket" He pretended not to hear and went straight inside, a policeman chased after him and grabbed him, asked the ticket to take it out, he was nervous and didn't know how to answer, I-I-, go out without a ticket. He had no choice but to walk out, glaring at the doorman and scolding in his heart, "You don't die well." Standing in the square, the north wind was blowing, and the little contagious heat on his body disappeared immediately, and he couldn't help but tremble. The night market on the side of the station is still brightly lit, scattering the aroma of wine and meat, he walked over and the smell of meat attacked people's body and mind, he didn't dare to think about the wine and meat, his eyes looked at the steamed bun shop in the corner, looked up at the master, begging tone; "Can the boss give me a steamed bun?" his very weak voice seemed to be said to himself, and the boss didn't pay attention to himself. He exclaimed, "Is it okay to give me a steamed bun?"

The master squinted at him, and said that he would go somewhere else. He walked away with a fever on his face, leaving the night market and coming to the square.

He wondered why the doormen could recognize that they didn't have a ticket, and if they saw that they didn't salute, he went to pick up a bag and slipped in it again, and so he walked around the streets, hoping that he could see money, even if it was a dollar, and buy a few steamed buns. After walking for a while but failing to do so, he walked to the mouth of the tunnel under the railway bridge, crossed over to the platform, looked at the passing wagons, if he climbed on the train to go to other cities, maybe someone would give him steamed buns, how could he stay up to the next station in this cold night, but he was afraid that he would freeze to death. The station looked at the brightly lit waiting room full of passengers, the glass doors were closed, and when I came to the front and saw that the two doors were locked with a long chain, I pushed the door open with force, and the hot air flowed out from the crack, and I went into the head to visit, and there was no police, so I quickly got into it and walked quickly along the aisle to the door of the waiting hall. Go in and find a vacant place to sit down, it's so noisy inside, and my whole body is gradually getting warmer, and I keep an eye on the police from time to time, especially the annoying guys. The train was about to enter the station, the passengers were queuing up to check the tickets, he looked at the people around him, there was not much left, he was worried about which police officer arrived, it was easy to find himself, so he went to the bathroom. There was no one inside, looking at the people, and after a while, the police came over, and he hurriedly got into the urinal and closed the door, and he didn't untie his belt. Listening to the footsteps getting closer, he hurriedly took off his pants. Wouldn't he have come to arrest himself, if he could be a prisoner, he wouldn't have to worry about food and clothing, but he hadn't reached that level yet, if he was kicked out, how would he spend the long cold night? Hearing the footsteps coming, he tried his best to calm down, the door opened and faced a policeman, he hurriedly said Can you give you some handwritten paper, the policeman was angry and said Who will serve you, touch the ground and close the door. Hearing him enter the next door, he smiled silently and waited for him to leave. The stomach is rumbling and hungry, and if there is any expense, you have to accompany the police.

Passengers in the waiting room came and went, some gathered to talk, some meditated, and some closed their eyes to recuperate, going back and forth. He came from the bathroom and sat in the waiting seat, looking at the wall at two o'clock, people were tired and waiting, and some simply lay down to sleep. From time to time, he monitored the arrival of the police to take shelter. Didn't come either, probably went to sleep too, he himself took a nap, and fell asleep with his head on his lap. Time walks slowly, dawn gradually comes, and people flow. The policeman did not go home to sleep, maybe after a few naps, he began to patrol again, came to the waiting room to look for it, and soon walked past the passenger, came to him who was snoring, and woke up. Do you have a ticket, this asked, and he fumbled in his pocket. The police looked at him and said he would go out without a ticket. He stood up and walked down, hearing the police follow. He didn't hide anymore, but went downstairs and out of the station gate, walked across the square, and disappeared into the night.

Zhumen wine and meat stinky road has frozen bones, reading does not understand the taste is an outsider, today in a desperate situation to experience the carved heart. The cold night grows slowly, hunger makes people soft, the dawn is still far away, and the torment is tormented, can it not survive until tomorrow. He walked slowly alone, the empty street was empty, and the street lamps were still shining dim light, which was cold light, like an oil lamp in the mourning hall, illuminating the way for the wandering soul. He asked himself if he could survive until tomorrow, maybe he was trapped on the streets, he couldn't let his life just like this, and he had to try to live. Stealing things, going there to steal, stealing things, robbing things, haven't done it yet, thinking like this, I saw the flames dancing on the side of the road in front of me in the distance, and there were people next to them, at the door of the inn. When he came to the fire, the shopkeeper glanced at him and did not speak. The expanding flame was as tall as a man, softening the body that was going to stiffen, and he was like a roast duck by the fire, slowly spinning to roast, and surviving in the fire. The innkeeper wore a long fur coat and sat on a wooden bench looking at the neon lights of the clubhouse in front of him, and he also looked over, and saw a lot of cars parked at the door, men and women coming in and out of it. The innkeeper said to himself, what a club, it's not a cheating affair between men and women. He didn't pay attention to it, but the hunger was hearted, tormented. The Red Army eats grass roots, and here it is all iron walls made of reinforced concrete. After the flames were strong, there were sparks left, and the cold wind came like hands together, getting smaller and smaller. The innkeeper went into the house, and he rode on the ashes, his body crunching. I can't just wait for the cold wind to divide and swallow me up little by little. The night market at the night market station was scattered, it was pitch black, and there was garbage left on the ground, he groped his legs to find it, walked over from this side, walked from that side, kicked the bamboo basket, picked it up and ran. I said in my heart that you are waiting, and we will continue to live the fire, light you up, and bring me to that warm paradise. Ran to the front and didn't see the sparks, and there was still residual warmth on the hand, so he hurriedly broke the bamboo pieces and inserted them into the ashes. Trembling and panting, he watched and prayed for it to come back to life. O God, you have atoned for my sins, and in this life I have come to love myself and others, and do not be indifferent to me, a wanderer, and give me a little hope. Smoke rose from the ash heap, twisting his slender body, and he couldn't help but scream with joy, wipe away the tears from his eyes, and whisper, "I know, God, you still have the mercy of a human being on your face," and he laughed uncontrollably. Peel away the ashes and see the firewood and sparks, and gently blow to extinguish the fire, the flames are beating, and some bamboo chips are added. He opened his robe, and his deafness covered the firelight, as if embracing the sun of tomorrow. I fell asleep at night, there were no more cars on the road, the earth was quiet, listening to my own weak breathing, waiting for the dawn to come, waiting for the earth to wake up, and the land was lively again.

The human body is a machine made of meat, it runs for food, and when the little energy stored is exhausted, the cemetery at dusk will be the final destination, and the soul will be the nightingale singing in the sky. But this is not an ideal destination, dazzling eyes, noisy city, turning wheels, walking footsteps, and foul air. Don't consume your energy too much, wait for the sun tomorrow, it will definitely pass.

The sun is coming, see that the eastern sky has its bright shadow, he came from the distant sky, with this warm light, to dispel the invisible cold, let the world be sprinkled with the light of love, soften the cold of indifference in the world. This is the ideal hope, in fact, it walks very slowly, like a hundred-year-old waddling old man, just giving people visual warmth, the cold has not gone away, he leans on the trunk of the tree and shivers, his heart is cold, his lungs are cold, and his nose is cold. The sky was slightly bright, the streets were crowded, and cars came out and walked, all of which were crowding the empty road. The morning sun comes out of the mountain, beautiful and blurred streets, and the world is full of infinite life and infinite beauty. Gradually the golden light shined, and there was a trace of warmth on his face, and he could see clearly. People wore long fur coats, exhaled white air, stopped for a short time, briefly pointed back to their eyes, like a thorny cold wind, in his face, in his eyes, in his heart, he stood up and hid his cold hand in his arms, and walked slowly and swaying. When he came to the door of the small shop, he went in to see the owner of the shop, and whispered if he could lend me a bowl of rice, and the man said impatiently, "Go, go, who I will borrow" He turned and walked away, not angry because he did not owe himself, no curse because he did not know himself, no regret because he asked for help from his kind, no sadness because he had a premonition, no ......