It was sunny in the morning and the rain began to patter towards noon.. When the headache is no longer there, the mood is better, and the feeling of reading with clear plowing rain rises again.. The wind was very strong. The wind blew my thin umbrella upside down on the way to send Xiao Bao to play zither. I turned around and the umbrella blew up again.. Xiao Bao laughed and I laughed, too. I think of the fable I told her when she was in kindergarten about attending the North Wind and Sun Regulations.. The old man who insisted on using the pressure cooker to popcorn on the roadside in the wind is very persistent. This is a livelihood. Otherwise, who is willing to insist in such a cold wind?? I bought Xiao Bao a new one from the pot and it was warm to hold it in my hand.. When I was a child, I queued up to take my own corn to fry popcorn. Xiao Bao didn’t realize it. I bought another pair of army green trousers in Mengxuanl. I let my heart rise like a prairie and forest.. The world is so vast and I am so small. I just want my heart to open a channel to those beautiful things that are far and quiet.. I don’t have the tenacity to grow trees on stones, but I must work tirelessly. I’m not Lin Chong who was forced to go to Liangshan. I just don’t want to give up my dream of forcing myself to leave.. Ten years, the next ten years, still work hard, only for a fuller, clearer and lighter self. I am not good enough, not open – minded, not easy enough, not sunny enough … Ah, I am preparing for the new year everywhere, and I entered 2013 year of the snake by reading, which is my habit. I live and study in my own way, no longer dream of governing the country and leveling the world, but only let myself return to self-cultivation and harmony. I also care about the 18th National Congress of the Communist Party of China, the island dispute, Mo Yan’s fairy tale, Zhang Lili, the most beautiful female teacher, and the five teenagers who died in the trash can.. I don’t have the prose writer Zhang Zongzi’s’ one pool of thin film and falling cold flowers’. Like a saying: when I first read philosophy, when I was soft, I read text. At dusk, snowflakes floated up, and my heart became moist and soft in the snowflakes.. At this moment when snowflakes are fluttering, it is a wonderful situation to think of Bai Juyi’s ” One Voice, All Things Away from the Heart” and ” there’s a feeling of snow in the dusk outside, what about a cup of wine inside?”. Besides, the snow is really getting bigger and bigger, Xiao Bao dances excitedly. At this time, I really want to have a person drinking with me, not like Shen Congwen, whose name is ” Li Taibai”, ” till, raising my cup, I asked the bright moon, drinking into three people”, and whose name is ” according to my thinking, I can know people”.. This person who has drunk sweet wine and recorded love by participating in Xiangxi Sanskrit Regulations always touched me, and this’ countryman’ who participated in the border city regulations has a touching, quiet and unsophisticated feeling that I will never reach.. Although I also advocate’ love and poetry’, his’ love’ and’ beauty’ are flowers in the soul, an aria of fate, and a kind of enduring beauty flowing like Kawabata Yasunari. Holding a glass of wine can also be relatively dim, just like loy holding a cigarette silently for Zhou Keqin, but I am not so lucky. I admit that I still feel lonely, whether in the subway or in the Bund, I often feel dazed and suffocated in the surging stream of people.. In the city, it is difficult to be a country man. Few people can speak quietly in the country like Han Shaogong and Yan Lianke or Chi Li.. Only when I hold a book in the hectic and tumultuous world do I feel like a swimmer taking a deep breath on the surface of the water. Zhang Zhaohe once commented on Shen Congwen: ” He is not a perfect person, but a rare and kind person, who is full of affection for people, love the motherland, love the people, help others, do nothing for nothing, be honest and simple, and be full of affection for all things.”. Reading such a sentence was particularly touched, and Shen Congwen’s gentle and quiet photos in his later years came to my eyes, thinking of his encounter during the Cultural Revolution. Although he completed the bill to participate in the study of ancient Chinese costumes, I still deeply regret it.. At this moment, I think of him holding a warm hand of baked sweet potatoes in the early morning of the Cultural Revolution, sitting on a stone pier outside Tiananmen Square, watching the sky and the moon waiting for dawn to open the history museum, so lonely, so cold, can literature still give him warmth? As if the morning sun was shining to the moment of rain and snow, my heart went from light to gloom and decided to stop and go with a bowl of sweet wine..