Read Zhang Ailing's prose aloud: Let the children read aloud in a low voice.

As the saying goes, "A year's plan lies in spring, and a day's plan lies in the morning." Time in the morning is precious. Morning is the most energetic time of the day. After a night's rest, the brain is full of oxygen, and the memory is the best at this time! Thinking reaction is also fast enough, which is more helpful to consolidate memory.

Reading is a good habit, so you must stick to it.

My aunt lives in a big dark and messy room downstairs. I seldom go in and stand in front of my father's smoke kang to recite. My aunt can read, too. She taught one of her nephews to read "fish swimming in the pond" and beat him at will. His face is often swollen and he can't keep his eyes open. She also hit my father and hit him on the head with a spittoon. So someone in the family stood up and spoke, forcing her to go. Sitting on the windowsill upstairs, I saw two recliner cars slowly coming out of the gate, both of which were silverware students she took away. The servants all said, "Great now!"

When I was eight years old, I came to Shanghai and sailed through the black water, green water and ocean, as if it were really dark and green. Although I have never seen the praise of the sea in the book, I also have a feeling of happiness. Sleeping in the cabin, reading Journey to the West, which has been read many times, contains only mountains and red-hot dust.

When I arrived in Shanghai and sat in a carriage, I was both angry and happy. Blue butterflies are flying on my foundation sweater and pants. We live in a small Shikumen house with red oil paneling. For me, there is also a tight scarlet happiness.

However, at that time, my father injected too much morphine, which was very close to death. He sat alone on the balcony, with a wet towel on his head, looking straight at him, and the thick white rain like a beef tendon rope hung in front of his eaves. It's raining, I can't hear what he is mumbling. I feel horrible.

The maid told me that I should be happy that my mother would come back. On the day my mother came back, I clamored to put on my most playful little red coat, but when she saw my first sentence, she said, "Why did you dress her in such a small dress?" Soon I made new clothes and everything was different. Father regretted it and was sent to the hospital. We moved to a garden house with dogs, flowers and fairy tales, and suddenly there were many rich relatives and friends at home. My mother and a fat aunt sat side by side on the piano bench to imitate the love show in the movie. I sat on the ground watching, laughing and rolling on the wolf skin mattress.

I wrote a letter to a playmate in Tianjin, describing our new house, writing three pieces of stationery and drawing a pattern. Didn't get a reply-that vulgar boast, someone should hate it? I think everything in my family is the pinnacle of beauty. The blue chair cover matches the old rose-red carpet, but it's not very harmonious. However, I like it, and I also like Britain, because the word Britain reminds me of the little red house under the blue sky, while France is blue, raining lightly, like a bathroom tile, stained with the smell of hair restorer. My mother told me that it often rains in England and it is sunny in France, but I can't correct my initial impression.

My mother also told me that the background of painting should avoid red, and the background should be seen quite far away. The red background always feels close at hand. But the bedroom wall between my brother and me is the kind of orange-red with no distance, which is my choice, and I like to paint the red wall for the little man, which is warm and close.

Besides drawing, I can also play the piano and learn English. Only at this time in my life can I have the demeanor of a foreign lady. In addition, it is full of strong sadness. I saw a flower in a book and listened to my mother's history, which made me cry. My mother saw it and said to my brother, "Look, my sister didn't cry because she couldn't eat sugar!" " "I was praised, and my tears dried up when I was happy. I am embarrassed.

Lao She's Erma is being published in Novel Monthly. Magazines are available every month. My mother sat on the toilet, watching and laughing. I leaned against the door frame and laughed. So I still like Ermayina, although Lao She's later Divorce and Train are much better than Ermayina.

After my father cured his illness, he went back on his word and asked my mother to give me money instead of living expenses, trying to force money out. At that time, she couldn't leave if she wanted to. They quarreled so fiercely that the frightened servant pulled the child out and told us to be good and mind our own business. My brother and I were quietly riding a tricycle on the balcony, and both of them were silent. On the balcony in late spring, there are green bamboo curtains and sunshine everywhere.

Parents finally agreed to divorce. My aunt and father always disagreed, so they moved away with my mother, and my father moved a house. Father never pays attention to "food, clothing, housing and transportation". He only pays attention to "doing" and is only willing to spend some money on the car. Although I was not consulted about their divorce, I was in favor of it. I was naturally disappointed that the red and blue families could not maintain it. Fortunately, the treaty stipulates that I can visit my mother often. When I first saw the tile bathtub and gas stove lying on the ground in her apartment, I was very happy and comforted.

Soon my mother went to France and I was studying at school. She came to see me, and I didn't say goodbye. Things can pass smoothly without any trouble. She looks happy, but I know she is there and think, "The next generation is cruel!" " When she left school, I looked at the closed red iron gate through the tall pine trees on campus, still indifferent, but gradually realized the necessity of tears in this situation, so tears came, sobbing loudly in the cold wind and crying to myself.

Mother is gone, but menstruation's house has left air, a slender jigsaw table, soft colors, and some lovely people who I don't know much about. Everything I know best, whether spiritual or material, is here. Therefore, for me, the beauty of spirit and material has always been one, instead of the opposition between spirit and flesh that ordinary young people think, there will always be conflicts and painful sacrifices.

On the other hand, there is my father's home, where I look down on everything, opium, the old gentleman who taught my brother to be a "Emperor Gaozu", and Zhang Hui's novels, living lazily. Like the Persians of Suo Luoya, I forcibly divided the world into two halves, light and darkness, good and evil, and god and evil. Father's things must be bad, although sometimes I like them. I like the fog of opium, the sunshine like fog, and the tabloids scattered in the room. Up to now, that pile of tabloids still gives me a feeling of going home. Reading tabloids and chatting with my father about jokes between relatives-I know he is lonely and he likes me when he is lonely. It's always afternoon in my father's room. Sitting there for a long time, I feel heavy.

On the one hand, I have a broad plan to go to university in England after graduating from high school. For a while, I wanted to learn to draw cartoons and try to introduce the style of Chinese painting to the United States. I want to be more popular than Lin Yutang. I want to wear the most chic clothes, travel around the world, have my own house in Shanghai and live a neat life.

However, a real thing happened. My father is getting married. My aunt told me the news for the first time on a summer night on a small balcony. I cried because I read too many novels about my stepmother and never thought it would happen to me. I only have an urgent feeling that this can't happen under any circumstances. If that woman is right in front of me, squatting on the iron railing, I will definitely push her off the balcony and get it over with.

My stepmother also smoked opium, and soon after we got married, we moved to an old villa in the early years of the Republic of China. That's our own property, and I was born in that house. There are too many memories of our family in the house, like overlapping photos, and the whole air is a little fuzzy. Where the sun makes people sleepy, the dark places have the coolness of ancient tombs. Black heart of the house is sober and has his own strange world. On the edge of the boundary between yin and yang, you can see the sunshine, hear the bell of the tram and the cloth shop on sale blowing "Don't cry, Susan" over and over again, and only fall asleep in that sunshine.

I live on campus and seldom go home. At home, although I saw that my brother and the old "What's the matter" were worn out and uneven, it was perfunctory because it was really rare to come back. My father is very proud of my composition and encourages me to learn to write poetry. A * * * wrote three sentences, the second sentence was "Summer Rain", and the other two sentences were tightly encircled by Mr. Jing, so I also felt very good: "The sound is like uncovering drums to promote flowers, and the lotus with rain opens the first branch." The third song about Mulan is so indecent that I have no interest in learning it any more.

When I graduated from middle school, my mother returned to China. Although I don't think my attitude has changed significantly, my father has. For him, this is unbearable. Over the years, I followed him, being fed and educated, but my heart was on that side. I made a terrible mess of things. I invited him to study abroad in the form of a speech, and I ate Ai, a terrible speech. He lost his temper and said that I was provoked by others. My stepmother scolded her on the spot and said, "Your mother is divorced, and you still have to interfere in your family's affairs. Since you can't put it here, why don't you come back? It's a pity that I came a little late, and I have to be an aunt when I come back! "

When the Shanghai war happened, my business was temporarily put on hold. Because our home is close to Suzhou Creek, we can't sleep at night when we hear gunfire, so we stayed at my mother's for two weeks. On the day I came back, my stepmother asked me, "Why didn't you tell me when you left?" I said I told my father. She said, "Oh, I told my father! Where else did you see me? " She slapped me, and I instinctively wanted to fight back, but two old ladies came and grabbed me. My stepmother screamed all the way upstairs: "She hit me! She hit me! " At this moment, everything becomes very clear. In the dim restaurant with shutters, the meal has been served, there is no goldfish bowl, and orange-red fish algae are carefully painted on the white porcelain jar. My dad rushed downstairs in slippers, grabbed me and shouted, "You still hit people!" " You hit someone, I'll hit you! I must kill you today! "I feel my head tilted to this side, tilted to that side, and my ears were deaf after countless times. I was sitting underground, lying underground, and he grabbed my hair and kicked me. Finally, someone pulled me away. I have always been very clear in my heart, remembering my mother's words: "If he hits you, don't fight back, otherwise it will always be your fault to sue", so I didn't want to resist. He went upstairs. I stood up and went to the bathroom to look in the mirror. I looked at my injuries and red fingerprints on my face, ready to report to the police office immediately. When he reached the gate, he was stopped by the policeman who was guarding the door and said, "The door is locked, and the key is with the master. "I tried to make a noise and kicked the door in an attempt to attract the attention of the police outside the iron gate, but no, it is not easy to make a noise. When I got home, my father exploded again. A big vase hit my head, and the vase tilted slightly, flying all over the room with broken porcelain. After he left, why did he cry and say to me, "How did you get this? "At this time, I felt full of grievances, crying like a mountain and holding her for a long time. However, in her heart, it is my fault, because she loves me, and she is timid for me, afraid that I have sinned against my father and suffered all my life; Fear hardened her. I cried all day in the empty room downstairs and slept on the mahogany kang at night.

The next day, menstruation came to intercede. My stepmother saw it and sneered, "Are you here to catch opium?" Before she could speak, my dad jumped up from the cigarette shop and hit him, hurting his aunt and going to the hospital. I didn't report to the patrol room because it was too embarrassing for our family.

My father threatened to shoot me with a pistol. I was temporarily imprisoned in an empty room. The house where I was born suddenly became strange, like a white wall in the moonlight and shadow, one-sided and crazy.

Beverly Nichols has a poem about madness and ignorance: "The moonlight sleeps in your heart". Reading it reminds me of the blue moonlight on our floor, which is quiet and murderous.

I also know that my father would never kill me, but a few years later, when I was released, it was not me. I am many years older in a few weeks. My hand clung to the wooden railing on the balcony, as if water could be squeezed out of the wood. Overhead is a brilliant blue sky. There was a sound in the sky at that time, because there were planes all over the sky. I hope a bomb falls in our house and dies with them. Me too.

Why are you afraid that I will run away? I told you again and again, "never walk out of this door! I can't come back when I go out. " But I still thought about many escape plans, and the Three Musketeers and the revenge of Kidu Mountain came to my mind together. What I remember best is a friend of Zhang Qiugu's in "Kyubi no Youko Tortoise". A lover made a rope out of a bed sheet and stretched it out of the window. I don't have a window facing the street here, so I have to climb over the wall from the garden. There is a goose shed against the wall, where you can step on your feet, but when it is quiet, you disturb two geese and wake them up. What should I do?

There is a big white goose in the garden. The only tree is the tall magnolia, full of huge flowers, like dirty white handkerchiefs and waste paper. It was left there and forgotten. Big white flowers bloom at the end of the year. I have never seen such untidy flowers.

I am planning my way out. I had severe dysentery and almost died. Father didn't call a doctor for me, and he didn't have any medicine. I was sick for half a year, lying in bed looking at the pale blue sky in autumn and winter. On the opposite gate, I stirred up the antlers of the gray stone, and there were two rows of small stone bodhisattvas under it-I don't know which year and which generation it is now ... was it born in this house and died here? He died and was buried in the garden.

However, when I think like this, I always try my best to listen to the switch of the gate. The police pulled out the rusty bolt, and then there was a loud noise and the iron gate opened. I also heard this voice in my sleep, and there was a cinder road leading to Tongtianmen, and the creak of sand under my feet. Can they sneak out even if I am sick in bed?

Once I can walk on the wall, I'm ready to run away. First, I asked why the two patrolmen changed shifts. In the dead of winter night, I lay prone at the window and saw clearly with a telescope that there was no one on the black road. Next to the wall, I touched the iron gate step by step, unplugged the latch, opened the door, put the telescope on the milk box and dodged out. -Really standing on the sidewalk! There is no wind, only the loneliness and coldness around the lunar calendar, and only a piece of cold ash is seen under the street lamp, but what an amiable world this is! I hurried along the street, every step on the ground was a loud kiss. I also negotiated the price with a rickshaw puller not far from home-I'm glad I didn't forget how to make a counter-offer. This is crazy! You could be arrested at any moment. Time passed, and I found that thrilling and funny.

Later, I learned that he gan was very tired because he was suspected of conspiring with me. My stepmother gave all my things to others as if I were dead. This is the end of my family.

I fled to my mother's house. That summer, my brother followed me and brought a pair of basketball shoes wrapped in newspapers. I said I couldn't go back. My mother explained to him that her financial strength can only afford one person's education, so she can't take him in. He cried, and I cried beside him. Later, he went back with those basketball shoes.

Why did you secretly take out some toys from my childhood as a souvenir? There is a folding fan with white ivory bones and light green ostrich hair. Because of the age, one of them lost his hair and flew all over the sky, making people cough and choke tears. Looking back on the day when my brother came, I still have similar feelings.

I study in London University. Accustomed to being alone in my father's house, I suddenly want to learn to be a man and find it difficult to be a "lady". At the same time, I can see that my mother has sacrificed a lot for me, and I have been wondering whether I am worthy of these sacrifices. I doubt it. Too often I wander alone on the balcony of the apartment roof, and the Spanish-style white wall cuts decisive strips and blocks in the blue sky. Looking back at the scorching sun, I feel that I am standing naked in this world, judged as a confused minor like everything, trapped in excessive boasting and inferiority?

At this point, the mother's home is no longer soft.

I was admitted to the university, but because of the war, I couldn't go to England and went to Hong Kong instead. Three years later, because of the war, I returned to Shanghai without finishing my book. The home in the apartment is still there. Although I don't absolutely believe it, I can still cherish it. Now I'm living in an old dream, dreaming a new dream in an old dream.

Writing here, the wind blowing on my back is a little cold. I went to close the glass door and saw the yellow moon in Mao Mao on the balcony.

There were drums at night in ancient times, but now there are bangzi selling wonton. For thousands of years, countless people's dreams have been decided: "Tuo, Tuo, Tuo, Tuo". -lovely and sad years!

(1July 944)

Xiao Mo's last words to everyone:

Be a happy person,

Satisfied with yourself,

Show your true self,

Whether in the mirror or in front of your lover.

May there be love in your heart and mine!