Joke Collection Website - Cold jokes - The Sub-group of Prose: Butterfly Fingers
The Sub-group of Prose: Butterfly Fingers
Wendan dry subgroup
I twisted my stomach, and there was not much pain. I was unwilling. I pinched it again, and the pain began to drag my tail, but the pain point was vague, as if I were running around in pain, just like my wandering mood.
I continued to intensify my efforts, and my thumb and forefinger almost knelt on my abdomen and twisted in the same direction. Gradually, they twisted together, and the skin under me was pinched into an overripe orange with wrinkles on it. The hidden nerve tissue seems to suddenly wake up, suddenly jumping out of the skin, throwing out painful ripples and biting the orange skin tightly. My attention focused on the twisted point, the pain rose rapidly and my skin turned red gradually.
I forbear, deadpan, and let the pain grow from my roots, just like Ling Xiao climbed the wall. While twisting, I threw a vine and trumpet-shaped flowers into the air, and Huang Chengcheng made a scene. Excited with vigilance, a lamp emerged from the branches and shook in front of my eyes.
There are curtains swaying together, bulging in and rolling out for a while, silently attracting my pain.
The evening breeze blew in from the window either loosely or tightly. I sat under the window, next to a small table with a book and a pot of tea on it. Halfway through the book, there is a bookmark in the middle, which looks like a door left unlocked. I am a road blind, and I often get lost in the alleys of this city. There are doors next to doors everywhere, but none of them are unlocked. The days of 7788 are hidden behind the door, and only at night do similar windows form thousands of lights.
Drinking tea and reading books is a part of my life, and it takes the same time as others to do beauty and fitness. I don't know how the business of those beauty shops is, but I am sure that the number of beauty shops far exceeds that of bookstores. All bookstores in the town add up to only a high single digit. I am very stingy. I don't go to beauty salons, gyms or yoga studios. This money is not as good as buying good tea and books. There are too many good books, but what I read is a drop in the ocean. There are many good teas, but what I take is only a spoonful of weak water. So I think good tea is nothing more than being able to taste five flavors, and good books are nothing more than being happy to read. If you meet an old friend, you can smile from time to time and forget the roughness of the world.
However, tea and books cannot solve the pain.
I have migraines and often have headaches without warning. It seems that there is a small hammer knocking on my temporal bone. After a long time, the pain swam slowly, suddenly stopped at the root of the ear, and then stamped every few seconds, and the pain fanned out. It's okay during the day, I can bear it, and many trivial things can hold back the pain. But at night, I was very tired. My brain is actually very tired, but my nerves are excited, even excited. I was suddenly awakened in a daze. It jumped up and stomped happily inside. I covered my ears and was not happy at all. Once the pain enters the body, only the skeleton remains in the joy.
Pain is divided into 12 in medicine, from mild pain to obvious pain, and then gradually rises until severe pain, explosive pain and visceral pain. I have a slight pain now, similar to intramuscular injection. It doesn't hurt to stick a needle in your ass, but the pain at the moment of pushing the needle is real. If you can't bear this level of pain, many people will grin. The pain is not only manifested in the expression, but also in the voice. They kept inhaling, but they were at a loss and ran back and forth in their throats.
The window is the south window. This is my habit. The north window will sit occasionally, but the east window will never sit. It is also the influence of reading too many books. When you see the incident, you will always think of it. A humble cloth, there is no possibility of exposure, just feel that the word is a bit suffocating. After drinking tea for a long time, my heart gradually faded, and then I didn't want to meet words like anger.
There is a camphor tree under the window, which is not very strong. In the early morning, I often see an old man hitting the camphor tree with his back and screaming in his mouth. The sound is naturally not because of pain, but to increase the effect of hitting the tree with the back, so as to achieve a slight shock in the chest, thus bringing out some secretions from the lungs. I haven't discussed this with the old man, so I naturally find an explanation for his daily influence. Sometimes he hits it violently, and the branches and leaves of camphor tree will tremble. It seems that someone is tickling it, and it can't help it. However, more often, I feel very painful.
Once, when I was wandering in the street, I suddenly smelled a faint fragrance, the kind that could flow, which was completely different from the flower fragrance. The fragrance of flowers is almost chaotic, and the memory I smell is also chaotic. I looked around and found that not far away, someone was sawing the branches of camphor trees with a chainsaw. There was no standard. I see more near the window, and those branches and leaves that have been sawn off are like a coat that has been taken off. The fragrance emanates from these saw cuts. I desperately think that this is the painful smell of camphor trees. More hopelessly, I suddenly became interested in the smell of trees. Walking alone, I walked under the tree, picked a leaf, crushed it and smelled it. After a long time, I seem to smell the temper of the tree. Trees that don't shed leaves have a calm breath and poor dispersion. Deciduous shrubs have different smells. If you borrow a person's personality, there are introverts and extroverts, and both.
However, the tree smells different when standing and lying. There is a park in front of us. Because of a heavy rain, water flooded into the park, so most of the flower trees were transplanted, and some even lost their roots. During that time, when you pass by the park, you will always smell a mixed smell, which is an anxious smell. Later, I saw that half of the flower trees that had not been transplanted slowly withered and died for people to see.
Pain overcame my quicksand mood. I loosened my fingers a little bit and retreated from the park from my thumb, forefinger, middle finger and ring finger, like shovels, shovels and pickaxes. The tearing pain shattered my confusion and helplessness, or my boredom was relieved when the pain hit. My whole body is slack, the hot flashes recede, and I am motionless, as if I were nirvana.
This is a game I play by myself. I did it when I was a kid. My mother is partial to my brother and is very kind to him. The best clothes must be my brother's. He was also taken by my relatives when they went out, but she scolded me. I'm really thin. I can't stay at home all day. When you go out, you must have dirty clothes, painted yourself, or got into trouble. My mother has to make amends and always talk back to her. It is understandable that mom doesn't like it. Mom once scared me to pick it up. I once believed. But when I was sick, my mother's kindness to my brother was completely released to me, and her words were gentle. She kept taking my temperature on my forehead with one hand, and put the other hand on my forehead. If she doesn't get better, she will go to the doctor behind my back. I fell on my mother's back and felt her coming step by step, which made my whole body tremble with happiness. But I can't pretend to be sick. All I know is that I have a stomachache and a fever. A stomachache means I can't eat, and greed gives me my true colors. So I had to hurt myself intentionally, but the pain needs skin to prove, so I twisted myself and twisted my scar to attract my mother's attention and warmth. My mother didn't see through my trick until I left home to study abroad in junior high school. My mother suddenly didn't want to, but my game couldn't stop, especially because my heart was blocked. I repeated my game.
At first, I only picked my stomach behind my family's back. They can't see the blood on it. Even if I see it occasionally, it is said that it is left by moxibustion, and it is easy to prevaricate. Later, I put my hand under my waist, and my family seemed to find those bruises strange. Can't stand the cross-examination, so confess.
My husband has been insensitive to my illness because he studied medicine. In his eyes, doctors don't seem to get sick. And I often behave like this, and seldom tell him about my physical pain. If you ask him what my hobby is, he will be like a few treasures. If you ask him what my hidden illness is, he will look at you strangely, as if your question is so unreasonable.
However, the traces of pain frightened him, but he couldn't explain it. So he found some patterns from the Internet, such as how many tigers can be seen behind the tree, such as seeing a girl or an old woman first. Teacher Wang tested me seriously, wrote it down from time to time, and then looked through the answers to synthesize my mental state.
I didn't cooperate very well. I clearly saw a girl and said she was an old lady. In contrast to the answer, Mr. Wang looked at me anxiously, his eyes full of worries, and suddenly narrowed his vicissitudes. I can't help but feel a quiver. My husband is getting old. He has a belly, which looks like a pot. The white hair on his head seems unstoppable, and the wrinkles around his eyes are gradually emerging. Some loose meat not only aimed at me, but also attacked his whole body, from his waist to his abdomen, and he could pull out several inches by hand. The aging rate is amazing. We bring loose meat to work every day, and each of us deals with things that can be busy and idle. Life has fallen into a trough of passion.
It seems that in order to fight against the relaxation of the skin, the heart is getting more and more stiff, and it is easy to block when something happens, and it is not soft enough. The feeling of lightness and comfort in the past seems to be isolated, leaving only sulking and attacking my texture again and again. They accumulate in my muscles, mucous membranes and subcutaneous tissues and stick to my body. They share my unhappiness, devour my depression, and jump around my body when I am depressed and irritable, or twist into a ball or twist into a piece. I put my finger through the cervical mastoid muscle, and I can feel their sliding. Those slight squeaks are their restrained laughter. Especially when I can't sleep at night, those nodules seem to grow tentacles and swim freely along my body, leaving a few fat particles behind.
But I'm not surprised by their invasion. Dense nerve endings seem to be covered with fake fingers, dull and numb.
Once a patient came to our hospital with thick gloves on his hands. Because it is winter, this is normal. When I asked about her medical history, her right hand was placed on her lower abdomen, and her fingers were half held, which was neither like covering her face nor touching her mouth. When she spoke, her hand kept moving, but the opening and closing of her left hand also matched the description of her illness with a wave of her hand. When I took her blood pressure, she put her left hand to her mouth, and when she bit it, her gloves fell off, while her right hand was still resting on her abdomen, as if she had been injured by illness.
Later, when I examined her, she blushed and asked me to untie her pants. It turned out that her right hand was wearing a prosthetic limb. After wearing the prosthesis for five years, she still hasn't accepted its existence and replacement. She said that the feeling of shaking hands haunted her all the time, from the arm to the elbow, which was very strong and clear, but it broke at the palm, where only the bare wrist was left, but the memory of finger movement lingered at the broken palm. She always hides her hands in front of people and habitually puts them in her trouser pocket. She also said that at one time she had an illusion that her palms and fingers would grow back, just like a child changing his teeth. So after her palm accident, she fell in love with kindergarten inexplicably, especially the child who was changing her teeth. She said that when the child laughed and lost a few teeth, she felt her fingers closer to the skin. Later, one time, she held the child impulsively, accidentally revealing her prosthetic leg, which made the child cry and stopped going. Not can't, but dare not. The child's parents almost went to her house to claim compensation, because the child cried as soon as he saw the finger in the photo.
In psychology, there is a psychological disorder called intensive phobia. Seeing dense things, my heart is full of fear, as if there were eggs crawling on me. I have no obstacles in this respect. But that doesn't mean I have no other obstacles. My obstacle is height. When I stand at the top, my legs are shaking and my feet are itchy. The most incredible thing is that I know I'm afraid, but the impulse to jump always overflows my nerves, as if two people were bumping into each other. I try to overcome this emotion, force myself to approach the impulse, and see through another false self with a true self. This process is doomed to be very difficult, and both of me finally retreated to the bottom of the iceberg and controlled me timidly and effortlessly. In my personal medical history, acrophobia will be carried for life.
There are many white scars on my calf, which are very dense, like vitiligo, and they are left after mosquito bites. Therefore, even on a hot day, I wear stockings. In the face of others' puzzled eyes, I still can't tell the secret. Not only my leg, but also many scars on my body. Although they are all accidental bumps, I stubbornly believe that this is my body's revenge and warning.
I used to have hives. As soon as I touch well water or cold wind, big bags appear on my hands, back and even my buttocks, which are red and swollen, especially itchy, almost itching to the bone marrow. I know I can't scratch, and I can't help it. It seems that there are 1000 caterpillars running around. Reason can't control the pathological reaction of the body at all, and can't resist the finger changing action, from grasping to digging, from digging to digging, until the blood turns red, and finally defeats the caterpillar.
That day, I came out of the bookstore, and the wind was blowing hard. I stumbled to take a taxi, but there was no one there. Come out for a walk after dinner, the wind is not strong. I walked into the bookstore. There are not many people in the bookstore. Most of them are children. Their little ass is on the bookshelf, with a book in his hand, and the adults standing next to him are sliding the screen. I bypassed them and went to the third floor, where the book I read was. There are many ways to buy books now, and there are relatively few bookstores. However, I will always go to see it in a year. If nothing else, I like the feeling of sitting in the book city. I saw my two books on the shelf, sandwiched between Wang Guozhen and Haizi, which made me feel a little scared. I instinctively pulled it out. Finally put it back. It's no use laughing at yourself. I looked through some books, but the idea of attracting myself to buy them was uncertain. There are several salespeople, one by one, bowing their heads to play with their mobile phones. The closing bell of the bookstore rang, and I dug out two novels I had just finished reading. When I arrived at the bookstore, I just read books and didn't buy books. I seem to feel guilty.
When the north wind came in and out of my body again and again, the books were turned up at will, and the papers collided with each other, as if opening some kind of fence. Although I have passed the severe cold, I still don't feel cold. Now that the wind blows, I feel that winter is so close to meat. I will try to avoid the tuyere with my back to the wind for a while. The corners of the mouth of the wind seem to be everywhere, chewing here, chewing there and sometimes smacking my lips. I feel my whole body hair stand up and fall down, fall down and stand up.
Finally, I got home. After a cup of hot tea, I was still shivering, and the two books on the table were shivering, but it was already the sequela of shivering, and the pages were stuck like headshots. I kept rubbing my hands and drinking furiously in my palm. From time to time, I shook my head against the wind and felt like a fallen leaf, which was blown to the community by the wind. I've had this situation before. When I came back from the village, I suddenly met a strong wind, and then I went back to the dormitory with goose bumps. I sat by the bed alone and kept scratching. The thick wind mass is east and west, and it slowly subsided after I was feverish all over. I subconsciously touched my back. It was cold and nothing unusual. I reached out to other places, and there was no prominent wind.
Urticaria has just subsided from me. It was vague at the beginning and unclear at the end. Just like the people I met in the street, when I realized that I had reached middle age, I saw people who were close to or older than me. They are all colorful, but the flowers are vague. The chloasma on their faces reveals their physiological changes, and rough skin can't hide their inner desires. They have pear-shaped bodies, sparse hair and square faces. The word yellow-faced woman sticks to me like a slug.
Sometimes they suddenly call ah qun, and I will be stunned for a while. There are many people called Ziqun in this small county town, both men and women. There are more people named Ah Qun. There is an "Awei Restaurant" on the dining street downstairs. Every time I pass by, I feel very unhappy, as if I were deliberately giving me a problem. It is an open secret that I don't eat beef. There are many things you can't eat, including game. It sounds a little hypocritical, even if it is hypocritical, it will come to the end. I've never seen that group of people. I had some vague daydreams, but when I followed the smell of cattle, it seemed as if I had dragged a rag in an instant. At this point, I prefer to believe that Ah Qun is a man with a body that kills pig embryos and a pair of bronze eyes.
On another street, there is a soybean milk shop called Ah Qun, which is the most famous in the county. The soybean milk scooped out is as thick as a bowl of eggs. This Ah Qun is an old man in his sixties, with an apron around his waist and eyes hanging, but two figures are like two brackets. If he doesn't look at you, you think you owe him something, so when you enter his shop, you should drink his soybean milk and meet his eyes. At this time, the taste of soybean milk comes up inch by inch.
My name is like half a life history. Everyone named Ah Qun is a punctuation mark, or a comma, a period, or an exclamation point. My family calls me Ah Qun to show my affection. My mother calls me Ah Qun when she is angry, but her voice is stiff and stiff. If she was slapped, she might jump a few feet. At school, I was called a subgroup by the teacher to show my affirmation of my excellent results. My classmates call me an old cadre. Although I am young and called an old cadre, I am filled with joy when I hear it. Being young and mature is another way to praise. When I was not good at writing, I drew up a pen name for myself early, which seemed to be intended to compete with my name. But no matter how you look at it, I still can't find any feeling, so I still return to the original appearance.
Ah Qun is a very common name, but I haven't heard of it in the bookstore. It seems that I have been in a line with many ah qun, and occasionally there will be collisions. But it didn't shine as brightly as I expected.
My colleague gave me vegetables, saying that they were planted by my mother-in-law, which were pure and pollution-free. I wonder why she has a vegetable field. It turns out that the municipal government has many reserves in the city, and fences have been built outside, and sometimes it doesn't play. These lands are thus abandoned. Slowly, someone climbed over the wall to open up a piece of land, and soon, a group of people followed. As long as there are two or three people growing vegetables nearby, a group will soon form. Although they are familiar with each other, they are still marked on their respective plots. Traffic was heavy a few steps away, and they bent down to grow vegetables. After the land is planted, they continue to expand the land, enjoy information, and carry buckets and hoes every day to find the remaining open spaces in the city. In order to grow organic crops, they use spittoons and plastic bags to fertilize at home, which seems to safeguard the dignity of a farmer. Most of the crops are eaten by themselves, or relatives and friends often go to the vegetable market to sell them. Strange to say, it seems that there is no need to shout, so I bought it soon. In this way, the vegetable vendor next to her was unhappy and refused to lend her a scale any more.
Ah Qun once lived in an abandoned land. They got a huge sum of money and bought a house in the city, which easily solved my lifelong accumulation in one day.
It's just that these ah qun don't know what to do with the money. This makes me look forward to it.
I have a colleague who is also my boss. There is a gentleman in her name. I guess my family might call her Jun. In the dialect of a small county, Jun and Qun are pronounced the same. But the unit can never call her jun, and she later went in because of the house demolition. I was on my way home when I heard the news. Although I didn't have much contact with her after I was transferred from the unit, those moments that stayed in my memory couldn't stop. She has a good reputation in the unit, and her work is vigorous and vigorous. Of course, everyone knows her shortcomings. Those who take advantage of her position and those who want to get close to her will take advantage of her shortcomings. She doesn't seem to take this seriously, but it has become an excuse to get along with others. Everyone knows that she has many properties in first-tier cities, and it is said that she is doing well, but she doesn't want to retire or Waterloo. Her news spread quickly, and the more it spread, the more outrageous it was, but it was still said that it had a nose and eyes. Many people with nose and eyes try to please her. But none of this matters. She can't hear it in there, and even if she does, it's not the most concerned thing. I played a little joke with her before. I said I had sheep under my name, but I had no money. Looking back now, it feels like a prophecy. Because, at that time, she said she was the richest. What's the use of her not being free?
There are many things in the world that are repetitive, such as food, clothing, housing and transportation, and ideological understanding. Yesterday repeats today, today repeats tomorrow. The Buddha said reincarnation, and it really happened. Almost every day, we can see decadent people, soaking in card tables, indulging in low-end restaurants and wandering by the river in the park. They seem to be struggling for survival, but in fact they are struggling in their own will. Maybe the night before, I was still making up my mind to leave now, but the next day I repeated my life the day before. Can't say they are willing to sink, the wrinkles of life are too deep. I'm repeating myself, too Today I feel that my understanding of yesterday is still a small model. It seems that I have wronged the years and the fishing line in my eyes, but my determination to mend my ways has been delayed, and all kinds of things continued yesterday.
It is sad to open the ripple of time, and repeat it.
But the collapse of life is slipping from one excuse to another. The same tears, will not think of using it to wash your face. Some words fell on the paper and could not stand any longer. So are those memories. I didn't remember such a thing until I read my diary. But memory is also unreliable. Reading those words is like reading a story. Those feelings have been lost, like a basin of spilled water, given shape, but they can never stand up.
At this age, I suddenly become less uncompromising, especially when I get along with my son. I guess I'm not ready. My son suddenly grew up. I always talk to him at a distance when I go out. I have to repeat it several times before handing me a sentence. If you ask again, he is tired of you. He is in the room, and you listen outside the door, like a spy, to distinguish whether those voices come from games or English practice. When he is reading a book, you always want to know what book he is reading, for fear that he should not read a book, or a nonsense book. You hope he can follow the route he pointed out and discipline him with life experience. He doesn't think so. Looking into your eyes is like looking at grandma next door. Once you read his eyes, your heart will surge again and you can almost swallow yourself. He looks at you coldly, even if you are trembling with anger, he doesn't think so. He has his own reading interests, such as Three-body, but you don't agree with such novels, especially when you read online reviews, you feel cold in your back and even challenge your three views, especially when you see him extract those bloody and cold words from his diary. So I talked with him and earnestly told him to read classic books, which can help you become a rooted person. He looks at you with provocative eyes and faces the leaked menopause with youthful stubbornness.
For a time, I often woke up in the middle of the night, but I couldn't sleep after waking up. I got up and looked at the clock by the light outside the window. It was only two o'clock in the morning. Just visible to go back to sleep, but at that time, I was pretending to sleep. This outfit put all the distractions in, and for a moment, memories came and went, and my head couldn't stop. In a deep sleep, Mr. Wang curled up and occasionally moved his lips, causing a splash in his throat and a shallow smile on his mouth, like a baby. Mr. Wang is a person who can fall asleep while sitting. I don't call him on the rest day. He can sleep for seventeen or eighteen hours. When he got up, he reluctantly said that he had just slept. I'm really embarrassed to say that sometimes I have to sleep several times a night.
There have been many dreams, each one looks bigger than the other, but in the middle of the night, what I yearn for is actually a good sleep. There is a special World Sleep Day in the world. It seems that the problem of sleep has become international, and I am not the only one who counts jiaozi after midnight. I have tried all kinds of methods, even folk remedies, which are only good or bad. I also had to take sleeping pills. When I woke up, I felt like I had fished it out of the water, and my head and feet were wet.
Talk to friends about sleeping occasionally. They all seem to have had this experience, but when it comes to the reasons, most of them are vague, as if they were stuck by an undisclosed secret. I have a friend who runs a spa. When it comes to hydrotherapy, people are like chicken blood. If she finds that you are not listening carefully, she will catch you, from international to domestic, from small money to big money. After all, spending a lot of money on health is also small money. As long as she knows what's wrong with you, she will definitely recommend her spa. She listed almost all diseases except infertility, including sleep disorders. She came to greet me every day after learning that I didn't sleep very well. After greeting, she encouraged me to go to the spa, and my mobile phone was very hot. She is thin and her face is not healthy, which makes people suspect that she also has serious sleep disorders. But I'm not sure. In addition to her, there is a friend who is a health care product, and her circle of friends is all the products she sells. I'm afraid to contact her. As soon as I contact her, she will recommend products to you, from collagen to ovarian care. Anyway, women's ideas have been thoroughly explained. Her advice is nothing more than that women should be kind to themselves and make themselves beautiful. Sometimes accompanied by a bloody joke, women don't treat themselves well, other women will sleep with their husbands, beat their sons, and so on. I feel that any woman who doesn't buy collagen can't live for a lifetime, especially after reading those pictures, the water is infinite, and it is false that you are not tempted. But when I was moved, the ending must have hurt my heart, and finally I had to block her circle of friends.
No one would have thought that a woman turned her old aunt into a treasure when she reached menopause. Although it is a very private matter, women will still talk about the physiological period when chatting. Some say it's getting less, some say they haven't stepped on it for months, and some say they're exhausted. This kind of topic is very common in lesbian affairs. Everyone is not secretive, even casual, and will talk about it when eating. One day, several female colleagues gathered at a table for lunch. After a bite of rice, in a word, the rice is shallow, but the words are more and more, and the parents are short, and the husband and children finally turn to themselves. This one has already left, and that one said that he would not come for several months, and he would not leave if he came. Then, everyone says that women can almost go through menopause after 50 years old. Suddenly, a voice came from a nearby table: Who said that? I still have it. Every month is normal. We all turned our eyes to the past, all female drivers in the unit. She is not afraid of male colleagues at other tables, and she speaks very straight. Some of us quickly put the rice in our mouths so as not to make the smile look eye-catching. Some people don't make any noise, but smile at each other, with impurities hidden in their smiles. Fortunately, there are many people in the canteen, no one is used to focusing, and the topic is light after dinner. A few days later, the elder sister knocked on the door one by one in the office corridor and asked the female colleague if she had any sanitary napkins, saying that she was a day early this time and was not ready. She doesn't seem to shy away from her male colleagues at all. Even if she got the sanitary napkin, she was holding it in her hand, running from office to office with pride and confidence on her face, as if a fish were flowing.
There is a lotus pond downstairs in the office, and the withered lotus stalks stand on the water like a staff. Because the scenery is gone, the water quality is exposed, and the black silt is unobstructed. The bottom of the lake is also decaying, desolate and barren. It has been far away from the once bright blue waves. This let me see a woman's old age, a great sadness lurking in the years.
It was still early to leave the office, so I went for a walk by the river. Walking, I saw a butterfly with emerald wings, which was associated with a young woman leaning against the door in ancient poetry. When I picked it up, I knew those fluttering wings were shaking, like people in pain shaking all over. The butterfly's pain makes it look like a dancing finger.
The greatest pain is the pain of childbirth. I haven't experienced it myself. I gave birth to my son by caesarean section. That kind of pain is like the separation of sacrum and pubic bone.
However, my mother never told me.
Tears, streaming down, dripping on the stomach, a butterfly lying there, like a mother's wrinkles with nowhere to escape.
Cadre group, member of Chinese Writers Association, vice chairman of Ningbo Writers Association. His published essays include Leave a Door for Swallows, The Eyes of a Ladder, The Village on the Finger, The Tree Has Ran away with Birds, The Prescription that Can't Be Taken Away, etc. Prose is common in prose, selected essays, writers' magazines, Shanghai literature, Tianya, Mei Wen and so on. He has won the Zhejiang Excellent Literary Works Award, the first Sanmao Prose Award, the seventh Bingxin Prose Award and the Chu Literature Excellence Award.
American recommendation
Prose king: the taste of hometown
Prose King: My Field Memory
The king of prose: the fleeting time of mother
Wang: The lamp on the snowy mountain.
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