The Truth and Philosophy of Yilin

Qian zhichao

I remember that in a midsummer, some friends who wanted to enrich themselves decided to pick cotton.

We came to this cotton workshop created by nature and put fluffy cotton in a bag.

Just as we were leaving, a child shouted, "Look! What a big spider web! " When we answered, we saw a round white net hanging between the branches of cotton, and a yellow striped Okumo in the middle rested with his eyes closed. A small piece of thick net in front and back is wavy and looks like a musician.

Suddenly, a bold guy plucked the string of death. The yellow spider quickly jumped over and wrapped silk thread around its two front paws. In a short time, the uninvited guest became a "zongzi".

As soon as the first zongzi was finished, the raw materials of the second zongzi broke in, which were undeveloped locusts.

We look forward to another bloody hunting scene. When the yellow spider approached the locust step by step, we gasped in waves.

Unexpectedly, there was a surprising scene. The yellow spider bit off the silk thread around the locust and put it on the ground. If the locust is reborn, it will jump three feet high and go deep into the cotton field.

Later, I checked the information. It turns out that many spiders will let go of unnecessary prey when they have enough food. I am surprised that this spider seems to be released inadvertently, but it is actually full of respect for life. Little spider, let me respect you.

Hope of love

At the age of seven, my family was involved in a religious conflict. In northern Colorado, Islam and Christianity clashed, and my mother became the victim of the conflict.

My father took me away from my hometown and came to Alaska, but I never expected that my father married another woman in less than a year. To make matters worse, she is white and believes in Islam, which killed her mother.

They have always discriminated against us blacks, but blacks also have their own dignity. Although we live together, I have never said a word to this so-called stepmother. Even if my father advised me again and again, I would never betray my dead mother.

In the new family, besides me, there is actually a sister my age. Her name is Anne. She is an innocent girl, but I hate her. White children are spoiled from childhood, and the school's preference for them always shows a sense of superiority in front of black students.

Of course, this kind of mentality can't be found by stepmother. She loves her daughter so much that it goes without saying that she eats and drinks. What's more disgusting is that whenever Annie goes out, she will stand at the window and stare, just crossing a street. This doting is too exaggerated!

My youth can be described by years, but it has been suppressed for ten years after all. In the past ten years, I never dared to give up my efforts and efforts in order not to lose to Anne, for the dignity of black people and for my dead mother. In the summer when I was eighteen, Anne and I got college diplomas at the same time.

But I'm not like her. She plans to go to Stanford for further study, and I, I prefer to go back to work in Cosola, because there is my mother.

Anne told me quietly that my tutor at Stanford also wanted me to go there. The opportunity was rare, but I glanced at her and said coldly, your mother watched you leave at that window every day until your figure disappeared. Go and have a look. There are two footprints under that window, but my mother is in Cosola, and God told me that she needs me to go back.

Annie was dumbfounded and shed two lines of tears. I don't know whether she cried because of my sarcastic remarks or because of her mother's love. She will leave this damned home tomorrow, and I have no mind to think about it any more.

Although the whole family enthusiastically helped me prepare my luggage, in my eyes, everything was fake, especially my stepmother, who was obviously laughing. She must be very happy that the god of plague is finally leaving, and this family will belong to her completely in the future. I can only pray silently that the Lord Jesus will punish these pagans!

However, I have to admit that after ten years, I still have feelings for this new home. The moment I stepped out of the door, I suddenly thought of my father and naive Annie. Anyway, they are not bad to me. Maybe I am really cruel. However, it is all over.

I can't help thinking back to Ma Lukou. Familiar window, familiar figure, white stepmother will look at me, my heart is turning. How did this happen? At this time, the mobile phone in the bag began to drip. This is a short message from Annie. She said: "I have been afraid to tell you that every day my mother will watch you leave at the window." She loves you. In fact, one of those two footprints belongs to you. "

For ten years, Anne and I both thought that my mother was looking at each other, but we didn't know that my mother's love for us was just like those two footprints, without any prejudice. I didn't dare to look back. I crossed the road and went straight to Cosola, leaving my tears blown down by the wind.

When I saw countless withered flowers piled up in front of my mother's grave and told my father all this, I completely understood everything in the past. The stepmother who believes in Islam accompanies her father to pay homage to her mother every year, which I didn't know at school.

At my mother's grave, I swore to God that I would return to Alaska and use my life to make up for the greatest maternal love in the world, regardless of race or religion.

Five mice in life

Author/Xie Sujun

I frowned when my classmates told me that they were called "Five Rats". I'm an intern class teacher, but I don't want to be a royal cat.

However, the disaster did not escape after all. Soon after school started, I found that they always left early, and they were good at choosing time to play. They always leave school quietly in sunny afternoons, and they don't pay any attention to me as an intern class teacher.

I didn't know until I asked my colleagues privately that they all lived in the old city street. What is even more hateful is that one of the five students is a girl, and she is crazy. Colleagues saw that I was depressed and comforted me: "Don't care too much." What does this mean? I didn't understand until I checked the file. In this bustling metropolis, their family of five is a five-guarantee household, and their parents are always running around to set up stalls, commonly known as ghosts and ghosts, so they can't have time to discipline their children.

Probably because of the same environment, skipping classes is also very consistent, which makes me stupid. But I won't give up. On another sunny afternoon, I followed five mice at the school gate to see what they were doing. The result was disappointing. The mice didn't rush to Internet cafes, game halls and other entertainment places as I imagined, but went straight to the old city street to go home.

Old Stone Street is particularly dark, so I'm too cold to go back to school, thinking about how to teach them a lesson. But when I returned to the classroom, I found that five mice had been sitting in their positions seriously. What's going on here? Why did they run back? Did they find me following? I can only pretend that I know nothing. They are thieves.

The second time, I chose to focus on the attack, starting with the girl and thoroughly figuring out what they were doing. Many things happen. On the same beautiful afternoon, when I knocked on the girl's door, she could only look at me in panic. I asked her what she was doing at home, but she faltered until I threatened to fire her, and she pointed angrily at the balcony.

In fact, it's not a balcony at all, but a window half a meter outside the wall. At this moment, it is covered with quilts and pillows. I suddenly understood that the old city street is surrounded by high-rise buildings, and there is no sunshine all year round. Only the sunshine at two o'clock in the afternoon can be visited occasionally, so the girl will go straight home every bright afternoon.

The girl took me to four other boys' homes for exactly the same reason. Even the older boys were responsible for pushing the neighbors in wheelchairs onto the balcony. My heart is sour and I can't say a word. This is not skipping class. Their persistent pursuit of warmth can only make me feel ashamed.

After one month's internship, I never criticized those five mice again, and even mobilized students to make a small donation for them. Of course, that's just a drop in the ocean, and it can't change their gloomy fate anyway. I can only silently pray that their parents will have a better income outside.

Back at school, I turned what I saw and heard into the type in the school newspaper. Unexpectedly, the article stirred up a thousand waves, and the teachers and students of the whole school donated money to warm five mice. In less than a week, I raised more than 10 thousand donations.

A month later, I excitedly went to find them, but there was no sign of them in the familiar classroom. Students in the class said that they had dropped out of school and disappeared.

I hurried to their house and bought five notebooks with warm sun on the cover in the supermarket. However, when I got to the old street, I only heard the rumbling sound. I don't know when the dark old house has been torn down, and the streets are full of slogans of Sunshine New Town.

Demolition, in the vigorous demolition, five little mice can only move, but where they have moved, no one knows, I have more than 10 thousand yuan in donations, and I don't know where to go

Criticism is like taking a bath

Someone asked Matthew Bra, former president of 40 Wall Street International Company, "Are you sensitive to other people's criticism?"

He said: "In my early years, I was very sensitive to this kind of thing. I am anxious to make everyone in the company think that I am perfect. If they don't think so, I will worry. "

"As long as a person complains about me, I will try to please him. However, what I do to please him always makes another person angry. When I want to compensate this person, I will annoy others. "

"Finally, I found that the more I want to please others, the more enemies I have. Therefore, I said to myself: as long as you are excellent, you will certainly hear complaints and criticisms, so get used to it while it is early. This helps me a lot. "

"In the future, I decided to do everything I could, put away my broken umbrella and let the rain that criticized me fall from me instead of dripping down my neck."

If the flowers knew

When we first met, he was the ace teacher of this key high school, and she was a beautiful girl transferred from other schools. Almost suicidal infatuation, she was intoxicated and didn't know where to go.

The teacher coldly refused and the girl was addicted. Seeing her depression, her friend hit the nail on the head. He is a person who attaches great importance to learning. If he wants to have enough charm, he must achieve his perfect image, not only his appearance, but also his knowledge.

So, under the old kapok tree, she invited him and wrote down the gauntlet: one day, she will prove her ability to get his love with her real talent and knowledge. He must wait for her to grow up.

I didn't expect him to agree, nor did he think about why he agreed to this almost absurd agreement.

When she graduated from college and became a reporter, the man she admired shuttled like a lantern. Although the figure was persistent in her heart, it gradually faded away. It's just that she remembers the agreement.

But why is dad waiting under the old kapok?

It turned out that his parents negotiated with him and made him make a false promise not to let a girl be sad. So, for her sake, he ruined his future and was branded as falling in love with students. In the dark, she had the opportunity to walk into the university campus and feel the youth and the scenery of her life journey. The breeze is ethereal, and the faint floral fragrance of deja vu comes to my face. But he is no longer in this city.

Only the fragrance of flowers still warms her, maybe all her life.

Quietly, this article contains the teacher's love for the students. )

Ruger

You said that when you first met me, I was hanging upside down by the doctor and looking around with my eyes open. Like thieves.

So you couldn't help laughing, but I cried.

Then you know that from now on, your life is in my hands.

When I was very young, you liked to hold me and sing and watch the moon in the sky warm as water. At that time, you were a talented woman, kind and forbearing. Your voice is always rustling, but you sing beautifully. I can't remember most of the humming tones now, but I know I'll never find such a beautiful song again.

You often quarrel with him, and it's very noisy. I can often see your injuries, and then I can't control myself. This tense day and trivial things in life have finally ruined you into a realistic woman. All kinds of flavors of rice, oil, salt, sauce and vinegar tea have soaked you, soaked you completely, and soaked my childhood babbling into mildew. So the poetic woman disappeared from my world. Those songs and moonlight also disappeared with time.

Time is a corrosive acid.

When I was eight years old, you took me away from home and rented a house in a dark yard. Narrow, damp and cold.

I hate that place. It seems so dark that it makes me moldy. But this is our only home.

You have been working hard to maintain our livelihood, always like a taut string. I have been worried that one day it will suddenly break and then you will collapse. Occasionally, when you relax, I can vaguely hear your sigh.

At this time, I realized that we have always depended on each other and worked for a living.

The days of running away from home lasted for more than half a year, and we finally returned home. In fact, as far as I'm concerned, this house, without you, can't be called a writer at all, just the residence of the indifferent.

I am still my good boy, and I can't bear to make you angry.

At the age of ten, you finally knew that he was having an affair, and you divorced him. There are only four people in the court, the judge, you, him and me. The court is as dark and desperate as the previous house, except that it is as empty as a cathedral and as quiet as a desolate place. I swear, if I don't want to live, I'll throw an explosive and blow up this hall. Very annoying.

You always know that woman, but she is a few years older than me. She used to come to our house to play, and I once called her "sister" affectionately. You took me to that woman, a very secluded place, a young woman with a big belly. We beat her up. Instead of hitting, you didn't really touch her, smashed her cell phone, slapped her twice, and then scolded her. I slapped her, too. This is my first and only real success. In fact, you can completely move her belly, but I know you can't bear to hurt the child in her belly. You once told me that no matter how wrong parents are, children are innocent.

Of course we can't go back to that home. That day, we sat calmly on menstruation's sofa, and as expected, he called. On the phone, he was furious as a lion, and he could vaguely hear a woman crying on the other end of the phone. He shouted to cut off all relations with me, and I just spit out four words indifferently:

I don't care. "

Then hang up and turn it off.

I turned to look at you and you looked at me with red eyes.

We just looked at each other calmly and silently, watching the world in each other's eyes gradually die.

You suddenly fell on my shoulder and cried. I knew you couldn't support it. I always knew.

I patted you on the back quietly, and then said softly as you called me when I was a child, and the gentle voice was sad in your crying:

"Mom, we don't have a home."

At the age of ten, I suddenly grew up overnight.

After that day, you fell ill. You have been ill, so have I, so you often blame yourself for passing on all the bad things to me. In fact, I don't blame you, I really don't blame you, because I know that we have always been lonely, always have been.

You seldom get sick. Every day, you lie in your hospital bed and look out the window, just like a burning summer devouring everything. You look lonely and weak.

Just me.

I look at you depressed and sad, worried and afraid, afraid of your sudden departure.

I just graduated from primary school at that time. Relatives and friends will often come to see you, but we are all helpless after all.

We will always be two people, dependent on each other and dependent on each other.

Pale hospitals are always full of despair and death. I shuttle through the hospital every day, and then fall asleep in front of your bed at night.

Every day, I witness the joy of life and the sadness of death. Every day, you can hear the cries of newborns and the wails of the families of the deceased.

In fact, I am not afraid of the smell of medicine and death in the hospital, but I am afraid of the unknown and the loss.

It was my most helpless and desperate day, you know?

In fact, I can see the sadness on your pale face, you know?

Actually, I'm not a child anymore.

Do you know that?/You know what? Do you know that?/You know what?

……

After you left the hospital, we started a new life. I also entered junior high school.

You found me a stepfather, smart and tolerant. Stepfather is very kind to us, and you are happy again, as if that serious illness had turned you into a child.

I began to rebel, not playing cards according to common sense. Strong, cold and aloof. No one knows why the youngest girl in the whole grade is so cold. I fight with boys, even if I am scarred, I will despise their existence with the coldest eyes until they are defeated by the weak.

As a result, it bounced and fell like a ball, and I was afraid that one day it would be completely shattered, smashed into golden light, and then smashed into slag all over the floor.

You and I started quarreling, and it was also very fierce.

When I was eleven, I made an irreparable mistake.

If you want to cut my hair, I won't die. I can't bear to cut my hair waist-high. You put me on a stool and the scissors in your hand cut off my long hair. The resentment that came up at that time made me lose my mind. I yell at you:

"You have always been so vicious, so annoying! ! No wonder dad didn't want you! ! ! "

Time seems to be suddenly quiet.

Suddenly I heard the sound of scissors falling behind me. I turned my head in doubt, only to see you fall like a kite with a broken line, with no expression, empty eyes and despair.

I panicked and helped you to say, "Mom … I was wrong … Mom … I'm sorry … Mom … Get up … Mom …"

Even I'm shaking.

Then you slowly raised your head and stared at me with sad and desperate eyes.

"Get out."

"get out! ! ! "You scream hysterically.

I think I'm really scared. I ran out of the house and hid in school all day, crying all day.

Until the evening, I saw you anxiously looking for me everywhere. I was on the swing behind the tree, but you didn't see me. I saw you calling me everywhere like crazy: "honey, go home for dinner!" " Honey, where are you? ! ! Honey, go home! Mom doesn't blame you ... where are you? ! ! ……"

Go home.

I suddenly burst into tears.

Home is where you are.

I saw you slowly squatting down and crying, so I panicked again, ran out and patted you on the back, and apologized blankly: "Mom … I'm sorry … I was wrong …" "

You suddenly hugged me tightly and sobbed silently.

So you can't live without me any more than I can live without you.

We will be together forever.

More and more people begin to say that we look alike and have similar personalities.

Nine times out of ten, when we go shopping together, we think you are my sister. You are less than forty years old, your figure is not bad, your face is still young, your straightened hair slides down your shoulders, and I usually match your clothes. No wonder. However, I always like to stare at you when others sigh and say, "How can I have such a wasted sister?"

You like classical things, painting, music and literature. I inherited your talent and even hobbies perfectly. You like listening to me play "Butterfly Lovers" on the guzheng, so I'll try to memorize it and play it for you. I drew a whole picture album for you to see, and you smiled and said, "Painting has improved! More than mom. " I didn't say anything. I have seen your paintings, and I am still far from that level.

Sometimes I like to call you "sister", and you will laugh and then give me the glad eye and say "heartless baby."

Only I know, in fact, you are old.

One day at the beginning of the year, I came home from studying at night and saw you sitting alone on the sofa, gloomy and silent. Asked what's wrong with you, you said gloomily, "I went to the barber shop to get my hair done today, and I found that I have a gray hair." Cough ... old ... "Say that finish with a sigh.

My heart suddenly struck lightly like a hammer that hit the clock, and then it became a long sound in my mind.

It turns out that you will grow old and I will grow up.

Like an object that gradually dries. Finally, I can only helplessly look at the increasingly dry and stiff years I left behind.

The long river of years always rolls on your forehead, leaving a gully where the long river flows.

This flood finally destroyed you, my dear you.

In a blink of an eye, it was another long and boring summer.

One day, when you were taking a nap, I happened to find your diary in your bag Allow me to be a villain once ... I've seen it ...

Open the diary, filled with your beautiful printed letters, filled with me, filled with your love.

Damn it! I write my tears in your diary.

I carefully wiped the tears from the paper and carefully put the diary back in my bag. You have woken up and said sleepily, "If you have nothing to do, go and help me collect vegetables."

"hmm? What kind of food do you accept? When did our family grow vegetables? "

I'll never forget the look in your eyes when you despised me and the sentence that came out after that look:

"QQ farm! What an idiot! It's hopeless If you don't collect food, you will be stolen! "

I'm twitching-yo-ho ~ the old lady is quite avant-garde ~

"Mom, let me tell you something."

"If you have something to say, you can fart."

"I will be your mother in the next life."

You continue to white me.

"Your girl want to rebel? No big or small. "

"If I were your mother in the next life, I would torture you like you tortured me in this life. HOHO~”

"No conscience ...-# ... go to sleep and kill you."

I saw you turn over and sleep again, and then smiled.

Dear you, if there is next life, please let me protect you. I want to love you as much as you love me in this life.

I want to repay the love I owe you.

I suddenly remembered my childhood. At that time, I was very thin, curled up in your arms, like a weak cat. I always thought that your arms must be the warmest and safest place in the world. When I was a child, the sky was unpolluted, clear as water, and the moon in Ming Che was as poetic as water. I like those beautiful fairy tales you told me, or those sad or gentle songs you sang. I fell asleep peacefully in this sweet song. I dreamed that I slept on those soft-toned clouds. It's so sweet that I want to take a gentle bite.

The night is cool like water, and the years are like songs.

After playing a song of time, all the women on summer nights are blue and white.