199 1 year, San Mao ended his life in the hospital, and Wang was hospitalized after drinking eight bottles of spirits.

There are three kinds of people in the world. The first kind of people pursue material wealth and enjoyment, which is the working people. The second kind of people pursue spiritual wealth, fame and fortune, which is most artists; The third is to pursue the liberation and sustenance of the soul. These are monks who really become monks, meditate and recite scriptures all day, and Taoist priests who practice in remote mountains and valleys. In my opinion, Sanmao is between the second and the third, and finally she still hasn't got rid of depression.

I read Sanmao's book when I was a teenager. At that time, I was longing for the outside world, so I thought Sanmao was a fighter, an elf who broke the secular rules and regulations, and a brave man who lived himself. Later, with more and more understanding of Sanmao's story, I don't know when it started. I felt that she was just a weak person who didn't dare to face life, a poor person living in her own spiritual world, and a selfish and willful woman: just leave and laugh happily, except.

But I thought about it carefully. There is nothing to blame for different values. When people come into the world, they have no obligation to be responsible to anyone. People live for themselves all their lives. When you jump out of these frames, you are relieved. The happiest thing in life is to be free and carefree. Don't lose your true self in order to survive. Life is not easy, why should you wronged your soul?

Sanmao is as unique as her writing, free and honest, true and unpretentious. However, she was ill-fated. Her relationship with Jose is actually her own wishful thinking. Her in-laws are mean to her. When she left this world, it seemed that she was only forty years old. However, her face is full of vicissitudes, and she is close to an old man.

On June 4th, 199 1, Sanmao was in the hospital and ended his life.

When she set foot on the road home, the feeling of reluctance in her heart made her understand that she not only missed this land in Xinjiang, but also had a man named Wang.

That morning, Sanmao got up early and went out to buy food. He wants to show off his cooking skills and cook a delicious table. He wants to talk to Wang carefully.

"What would he say if someone told him?" San Mao was intoxicated with fantasy, as if laughing at Wang's shy scene.

Seeing this, Sanmao's food suddenly fell to the ground and turned pale.

By this time, she already knew what Wang was thinking. Tears seemed to burst out in an instant, but she couldn't face so many strangers.

She came to Xinjiang secretly in order to talk to Wang alone.

But now, seeing this scene, she knew that her love had withered before it began to bloom.

Wang's inner hesitation and struggle finally brought him back to the safest border, leaving him to express his feelings only with his own courtesy. After all, her passionate love is an unbearable weight in his life.

He restrained himself and gently told San Mao what he thought. He can't be as handsome and brave as San Mao. He is too old, even if the beauty reaches out all the way, he dare not take it lightly.

Beauty's future is still bright, but she has a pure past and a vicissitudes of life.

Her fiery heart should not be wasted on people like him.

Come happy and return disappointed. Sanmao left Xinjiang with a depressed mood. She doesn't want to bear Wang's guilt and apology.

She loves him, but he doesn't want to accept her. How heartbreaking, full of desire, turned into dust and dissipated in the wilderness with the wind.

She remembers that every time she was injured, she would wander around and look at the beautiful scenery to soothe her sadness.

Jose left and the king abandoned her. The world is spacious, but the strong wind has nowhere to escape.

199 1 year 1 year, San Mao is blowing in the wind, and the solemn folk musician Wang, who is getting haggard and depressed, is used to drinking all day to paralyze himself. He once drank eight bottles of white wine in ten days and even went to the hospital because of alcoholism. But on earth, even if he repents for three thousand years, he will never find that charming and legendary woman again.

Sometimes I see Sanmao's reports and her old photos … I think she must have been an Indian witch in her last life! Sanmao has never been recognized as a beauty in the world! She has her own spirituality, even nerves, and her pure love for the secular. She will wrap jiaozi in a beer bottle in the Sahara, and she will record the trivial bathing of local women, the natural poetry flowing in her works, her tangled love with the bearded Jose ... Our youth, at that time, seems to have no particularly rebellious elements, wandering! Poetry! Folk songs! Is an inseparable part of our youth.

At that time, I watched Sanmao, Xi Murong, Wang Anyi and Zhang Ailing ... Listening to songs was all kinds of folk songs, from American countryside to China New Rock! In the 1990 s, there was no overwhelming network, and there was no self-destructive cause of jumping off buildings and burning charcoal. The rebellion I can stand is sitting in a green leather car and listening to your backpack to go hiking in the so-called distance! I'm worried about adding new words at this age! Looking back at the bleak land, rain or shine! I feel sorry for the youth that is gone forever ... Now, at the age of thirty, apart from being busy, I have only feelings left, and even sadness seems to have gone far!