Chapter 2 The first winter 1-5

idle love time stream has cloud flavor static is love nothing monk can 1 Closing the book, temporarily closing the painful typeface and the yellow inferior paper color, I brushed my ears, fantasizing about those inexplicable things that crowded my ears. It is customary to turn the face to the left.On the left is the window.The heater under the window was burning loudly, and people familiar with school affairs revealed that the heater was bought in exchange for a dozen seats, worth more than 100,000 yuan. The heads of one of the sons of the head and brain can be spread on average for more than 10,000 yuan. Thinking about the price that the landlords and gentry offered He Long's legendary head, it was nothing more than that.

In winter, the tightly closed windows shut the outside, and I can only infer from the thick mist covering the bottom of the windows that it must be very cold outside.This water mist has the same function as the round fan in Tang Yin's painting where the lady covers her face. The difference is that the round fan covers the slight blemishes under the beauty's lightly washed plum makeup, adding a touch of sultry shame, and the water mist blurs the coffin. The buildings full of dead images, the vehicles and pedestrians on the street swollen as if the esophagus is blocked, opened up a space for my imagination.

The heat of the heating rises through the water mist and penetrates to the middle of the window. The heated air is like a very clear stream, floating there slowly in the air.The scenery outside the window poured into my eyes through it, and there was an ethereal and illusory feeling, which reminded me of the mirage mentioned in the book. What came into my eyes were mainly trees.For some reason, when I see them, especially like now, I have a kind of homely feeling.It was as if when I was a child, those bad boys snatched the kite I made and covered up the torn clothes. I went home alone with my head down, and I saw my brother when I looked up.It was like leaving home, and for the first time in a place called a school, with hands behind hands and feet together, after watching "Chairman Mao" for a day, I saw my mother who seemed to be gone forever.The tree of this time is beautiful in its simplicity.In Zheng Banqiao's poem, it is said: "If you want to get rid of the complexity, you will simplify the three autumn trees, and you will receive the new February flowers." In my opinion, there are a few yellow leaves hanging on the branches and branches of the trees in late autumn. The wind has come, After a few weak swings, people can't help but think of uneasy words such as "struggling", "dying", and "dismal".But now, just a few sparse branches form a cool bunch, just a few sparse bunches form a cool row, and just a few sparse rows form a cool piece.

The trees are light green, the sky is light green, and the far away mountains that can barely be felt are also light green.Behind Linzi, add another round sunset like egg yolk, rosy like a girl's complexion, which almost emits a little light and affects the surrounding colors. A few pieces of the round sunset in winter are scattered in the sky. The clouds in light blue tone, or adding a row of sparse birds, seemed to be missing something. I took a carbon pen, imitated Feng Zikai's brushwork, and drew a line on the window glass of the imaginary "riverside". An old man in a coir raincoat representing myself, holding a three-foot fishing rod—at the age of twelve, imitating the appearance of the ancients, according to the characteristics of the house and my own hobbies, I once gave myself a ridiculous name—pigeon Lou sleeper.

At this time, accompanied by the sound of phlegm rumbling from the neck of the asthmatic patient, a puff of heavy smoke came from the forest.So the tree disappeared, the clouds flew away, and the birds scattered.Then, from the tightly closed window, the sweet, sweet and smelly caramel factory's unique smell seeped in.This smell of not being able to survive and not wanting to die penetrated into the brain along the nostrils, and quickly killed the imagination of chirping and bouncing like a bird.I turned my head around my neck twice so that the smell would spread out evenly, and after a while, I saw the blackboard.Numbers all over the blackboard, formulas yelled and rushed towards my eyes, knocking it into a blur.

Mathematics teacher Zhang is giving a lecture.As usual, she dutifully said as much as she could, and the more you talk, the less you get.Fortunately, those who listened carefully, in my opinion, could hear every word, but didn't understand a word. Teacher Zhang is a woman, 40 to 50 years old, very ordinary and easy-going.The short hair of vermicelli in clear soup, and the slightly blessed body.The peddler who sells the goods can’t yell out scary prices, the trainee nurse who can’t pierce the vein with three needles has the best attitude, and Teacher Zhang never loses his temper with us too much.You can listen to the class, don’t listen to it, read a book by yourself, or take a nap, but you are not allowed to speak loudly or ask strange questions.Both parties are clear that each other is just fulfilling their respective irrelevant obligations, you are you, I am me, and it is a coincidence or a fallacy that everyone gets together.

What is different is her slightly exaggerated head, which coincides with ENICA (Note: The world's first electronic tube computer. Made in the United States, weighs 130 tons, covers an area of ​​170 square meters, and adds 5,000 times per second. times), I don’t know what’s going on inside, if I want to buy a bottle of soy sauce from a small shop across the street, it will always make a judgment based on the fact that the earth is round, and order it to turn back and walk away. "Four squared to sixteen, three and four is seven, isn't it? Am I right?" Although it's been a long time since the last time I attended her class, this typical language of a typical character is enough to prove that everything is still the same.

I quickly glanced at the blackboard, and knew that the result was still the same—the black glasses were pushed up, revealing the dark red indentations on the left and right ends of the bridge of the nose. Then he asked suspiciously: "Isn't it right? Is it wrong?" Then the unsympathetic "square root 2" (referred to as "root 2") took off the lid of the pencil case. Gen 2 is very small, so it got this nickname.Courage and stature are also well matched, when answering in public, her face will turn red like a little girl, her throat seems to have a hot eggplant in her throat, and she can't say a clear sentence.In addition, I am as thin and weak as I am, and I am afraid that when I bend over, I am afraid that it will break with a "clack", so the gentle girls sometimes joke that "see it in your eyes, but feel it in your heart".

Mr. Zhang's family is very difficult, with seniors and juniors, and her husband is an intellectual. In China, he is the kind of person who is "the body of a young lady and the life of a maid".I am busy, but never late and leave early, so it is inevitable to make some mistakes in class.And every time like now, I raise my hands high, and when I make a mistake, I will buckle the lid of the open iron pencil box, making a scary sound. To be honest, although I don't agree with this kind of behavior, I can understand it.Many times, we (at least I) can tolerate a person who is cruel, despicable, and even humble, but we cannot tolerate a person's mediocrity.

"Math class, caramel factory, God save me." I should have buried my head to read my book and do my own questions, but today I have closed the book and don't want to read it.There will always be one or two days in a month when I don't want to read books, attend lectures, talk, or eat, and just feel bored.And today is different from before. I used to think about a few people kicking a ball, breaking glass, and being born with stinky sweat, and troubles will flow out with sweat, but now I think about girls. I moved the chair forward, only using the two hind legs of the chair to land on the ground, slightly back and forth, shaking myself up, my mind gradually scattered, my eyes gradually became hazy and agile, and I began to sneak towards it Place you want to go.

It’s not that I feel ashamed or unseemly about this kind of behavior, it’s just a habit I’ve developed since I was a child. For the beautiful things I like, I always hope that they don’t realize my existence, and they don’t realize their own beauty.In this way, an even rarer description can be added to this already rare beauty - true.For example, when I was a child, I tiptoed to the red dragonfly standing on the green reed, sat cross-legged on the ground, and stared at it. The dragonfly seemed to glance at me, and then went about on its own, as if it had forgotten about me. Regarding the daily routines of middle school students, the school stipulated 27 rules, six more than the 21 rules Yuan Shikai signed to Japan.Originally, no one wanted to memorize these things, and no one would remember them, but when Principal Hu's cadenced female voice read them out, two of them were widely circulated among the students and became allusions. "Boys should not wear their hair in a bun, and girls should not have shawl hair, curly hair, or perm..." "Don't touch red lips (wear lipstick), wear food (decorations)..." The second is that the students abide by the best, and everyone promises not to wear bread at any time.As for the hair, one of the rules is the worst. To put it bluntly, boys have to shave to reveal transparency, keep their ears to be obedient, and their eyes to read books. As for girls, it is simple and straightforward, that is, "don't let your hair grow." . As you can see now, the smart girls gave full play to their subjective initiative within the narrow allowable range under the rule card, just like the "coarse grain and fine workmanship" advocated in the Cultural Revolution, showing their broad and broad mind. The original imagination: loosely draped over the shoulders, is held together with wide fruit green or sapphire blue hairpins, and falls down thickly.The sparse half-curtain bangs on the forehead are sparsely bent, always giving people an urge to blow.For the side of the hair at the back of the head, perm a flower and then cut half of it so that it curls slightly inward, protruding a ruddy face.The self-compiled Xiaobian is close to the ear, and a small lotus-colored silk flower with beads embedded on the tip is adorned on the tip... It is rare because it is impossible. Carving a few elephants on rice grains is art. The elephant's body is covered with rice grains, which is not a skill anyway.Therefore, they are cuter and cuter. In the feeling, the hair bloomed so beautifully on their heads, fluttering like a flower, blooming some kind of longing in the gloomy air.Each one is so beautiful and miraculous, making each of them as beautiful as a fairy sucking the wind and sucking the dew from the sky, so beautiful that people are frightened and people dare not approach them.I don’t know when I started to have a special feeling for hair. I feel that there is a magical attraction in it. Like weeds and crops, it has life and has its own life and death. body, independent of each other.When I was very young, I slept in the same bed with my mother and sister, and I always had to rub my mother's smooth hair to fall asleep soundly.My mother once accidentally asked me why I kept pulling her hair at night. I didn't answer, but found another very small reason, and I had a big fight with my mother for no reason.When I grew up, I slept alone in the same bed. In the first few days, I always woke up at night, not at all stable.Sometimes when I turn over, I rub my hands involuntarily, without that smooth feeling, my eyes open, and the stars and moon float peacefully in the sky outside the window, as if I know what I am for and what I am shining towards.Eye to eye with them one by one, it's a night in a trance.Later, I found a piece of silk, but it was useless. In a very accidental movement, I touched my hair, and gradually fell asleep again in this kind of rubbing, but I still felt that it was not as smooth, sweet and comfortable as before. His eyes danced on the hair flowers, and finally focused on Xu Pan in front of him: the long black hair was tied with the same long thin red silk, and it was thrown behind. When the head was raised, the hair was long and long. The ends can reach the edge of my table, spread out sparsely, and then gently lift up, black and bright, radiating a kind of luster that is beating with life.This gloss, I only saw two or three months ago.As the owner of the hair raised his head and leaned over while copying notes, the black hair swaggered and danced towards me, getting bigger, thicker, and blurred in my eyes, showing the pine waves wrapped in the night, and the flying flowers hitting the shore The waves are finally thick clouds that can't see the sky, the earth, and me. They wash away everything else that can be seen, fill my eyes, and close the curtains of my heart.It rises and falls, buzzing all over my ears, just the sound of the wind swinging it, just the impact of it being placed on the edge of the table, just the friction sound of it rubbing against the table, everything is astonishingly loud, as if I have never heard it before. been.The nose is full of it. It is definitely not the kind of faint and intermittent fragrance that humans can create. The fragrance is very thin and light, but I still feel that my body is floated by it, and then it is suffocation that cannot breathe air. , I sank again. She leaned back now.No, it's not her, it doesn't matter to her now, I don't know who she is, it doesn't matter, it's like it's been a long, long time, I love them, I love to watch them secretly, do things that seem superfluous in front of them, Not because of her or who she is, just because they are nothing but girls.It's not them that I love, and it's not them that I peek at, but their straight legs, their slender waists, their protruding breasts, their white necks...but not them, at least not the thoughts in their heads. And now, it was it, the magic, the flowing hair of color retreating back again, into the sunlight pouring through the window.It didn't come back for a long time, but only swayed in the sun with the shaking of her body when she was writing, as if washing in the sun. After a long time, I was pleasantly surprised to find that it was washed into dark green, which is the kind when the seedlings grow wildly in summer. Green, as if water can be squeezed out, and oil can come out, as if it is transparent, so clear that the eye waves can penetrate to the bottom, as if scattering part of the light, and the surrounding is green, so dazzling that the eyes dare not take it directly. A string of small light circles of seven colors flashed from each hair, and the roots gathered together to form the dark green starry sky of autumn night. I heard the magic power calling, and I knew what my fingers wanted to do now. I watched it trembling slightly but extremely lightly, moving away the pencil case on the edge of the table without a sound, and occupying that position by myself. A few fingers The tips alternately, as if they were beating the table nervously.They want to touch the hair, no, they don't have the courage, they are waiting, waiting for the hair to come by itself.It was long, long, and suddenly, they seemed to calm down consciously, and I saw the strands of hair coming.Like the spring rain, like the spring wind, the fingers tremble slightly but the rhythm is faster. At the moment of contact, Yan Ran turns red, like a spasm, patchwork or straight or curved to form a flower, just like being moistened by the spring rain. , Spring flowers drunk by the spring breeze.The itching feeling spread all over the body, and the sense of satisfaction swelled up.The fingertips moved again, but this time it was soft and full of charm, touching the tabletop, as if the tabletop was a Yaoqin without strings, calmly waiting for the next reincarnation. Suddenly, a small hand slipped in front of his eyes seemingly unintentionally, and his frozen eyes were scraped off abruptly, making a cracking sound. The finger retracted at an unimaginable speed, before consciousness, as if touching a red-hot iron hairpin. Then the front legs of the chair slumped to the floor with the body, there was a loud crash of metal and concrete, and many heads turned around, their indifferent eyes protruding strangely. It took me a long time to recover from the collapsed state.This was the most painful time for me. Fan Yuqi swung his sword in "Historical Records", was chopping off his own head, and lent it to Jing Ke, a stream of blood burst out, and rainbow-like wings passed through the pale sunlight—— "It's time to eat!" Grandma yelled—the book fell to the ground.This doesn't work, that doesn't work, the prince came, a kiss, true spirit, Snow White slowly opened her eyes—"Bell" - "Bell" - I suddenly sat up from the bed. "Sooner or later I'm going to get mentally ill." Sitting paralyzed, it took a long time before I felt the strength to go and see who was so cute, and scared away my Yangshou, which everyone said would never last, for a few more days. It's the same table, surnamed Meng, first name Xun, a very literary name, I think it came from the title of Zhang Dai's essay collection "Dream in the West Lake". It happened to meet her eyes, which seemed to have been waiting there all along.Little brother, why are you blushing?In good health.Why is it white again?Wax applied in cold weather.What's the mess? !This is Yang Zirong's answer to the mountain sculpture. "Sorry." So she saw it all?That's when I felt embarrassed, that dazed look must be ugly, especially if she, not him, sees it.Just as if it is not for someone to show off, the posture of the most noble lady eating and changing clothes must not be very elegant. "Is there a compass? Can I borrow it?" She turned around, suddenly remembered or suddenly remembered, and turned back to ask. "It seems to be geometry class now?" "I'll do one, an extracurricular problem." "Then get it yourself, don't be so polite." In fact, in my pencil case, the pencils are always bald. They are waiting to be sharpened when they are used. The only eraser that can be used is also borrowed.Today, I happen to have a compass, which is still a good one. This made me very proud, and I forgot the embarrassment. I couldn't help but think of my grandma who scolded me while cooking: "Can you do laundry? Can you sweep the floor? Can you make quilts? Can you...can you eat?" "Yes!" I put down the book and gnawed at least five layers of pancakes with the fish soup.Respecting others is respecting yourself. In the same way, I am so generous today, but also for tomorrow. The monk said: it is convenient for others and convenient for myself.Leaders should be so visionary. You bastard!Thinking about it, I smelled the sweet and smelly smell of the caramel factory again. "After all, it has a little advantage. It always tells us the direction of the wind and reminds us not to mess around." 2 In Chinese class, everyone can relax.Like most Chinese literati, the Chinese teacher is proficient at chopping mountains and whining.It's like saying that you practice your breath internally and your muscles, bones and skin externally. I think our teacher's kung fu is all in one mouth.The lips are pink and thin, giving people a very delicate feeling.It is well maintained, ruddy and bright, like a girl's.Now that I think about it, Zhang Yi dragged his lobbying and was beaten to pieces, and said to his wife: "Do you think my tongue is still there? Is it okay? This is enough." It is also very courageous, maybe we The teacher has some relationship with him.Other organs are also in good condition, as evidenced by nursery rhymes: "Big head, small neck, just eating, not working." The head is like the "Bu Yun Xuan" across the street, women's iron-plated copper bracelets, gold rings mixed with silver, inferior Qingtian stone, mud cats and mud dogs, Zheng Banqiao's bamboo (of course it's fake), Valentine's card, developing photos on behalf of someone else, express delivery for four cents a day, in short, everything inside.Therefore, there are rich associations. When talking about Chong'er, at least talk about Chong'er's plate ribs, that is, there is no meat in the middle of the ribs, and they are connected into a whole piece, and he has two pupils in his eyes, and he is born with four eyes.When I was in high spirits, I would also like to talk about how the monarch peeked at Chong'er's rare ribs while he was taking a bath when he was fleeing. The Chinese teacher is always in high spirits. If you don’t say something you know, it’s like you can’t find a toilet.He had a back problem, and when he was sitting and giving lectures, he stood up when he was excited, and slapped the eraser on the table, very imposing, but not very loud.Everyone cheered vigorously. The students liked to listen very much, bowed their necks, applauded and laughed together when they looked sideways.But sometimes, when the joke was told with profound twists and turns, the students didn't respond. Their education made it impossible for ten of them to understand a real joke. "Are you laughing?" The teacher frowned and said it again, it was painful. "This is also a joke." The gentleman said angrily, so a few smarter people laughed first, and this laughter caused others to laugh, and then they all laughed together.Just like Principal Hu said after his lecture: "This is the end of my speech." Several people who were not asleep clapped excitedly, and the applause woke up the sleeping ones, and everyone cheered together. I am also happy to read a few pages of idle books that I like. If it is normal, firstly, there will be a teacher working hard on the stage, and I always feel that I don’t respect the teacher’s labor; There is a sense of guilt, not to mention that I am sorry to the great party, and I am sorry to my ancestors, but I am also very embarrassed just thinking of the two taels of steamed buns I ate in the morning.But now, the plaque on the head of the reclining Buddha in Xishan says it well: Feel at ease and feel at ease. ——Anyway, what the Chinese teacher said may not be more serious than what I saw. Today, I will talk about He Jingzhi's "Return to Yan'an" and Li Ji's "Wang Gui and Li Xiangxiang". "I always have a longing for Qinchuan, eight hundred miles away. I went there once last year. There was a dirt road, a man was driving a donkey cart, one leg was bent on the shaft, and the other was wandering beside the cart, with his mother-in-law leaning on the back of the cart. , red jacket and green trousers, holding a baby in his arms... The farmers in Shaanxi and Shanxi are hard to distinguish in appearance, but there is a trick: "Shaanxi hand towels are tied backwards, and Shanxi hand towels are tied forward..." I decided not to listen to it, and dug out "Li Yishan Anthology", covered in peach-colored tiger skin paper, with corners and ridges wrapped in white silk, and the mounting is very attractive. The first song "Jin Se", I have read it several times carefully, but I still don't understand: Zither has fifty strings for no reason, and one string and one column think of Huanian. Zhuang Sheng's little dream is obsessed with butterflies, and Wang Dichun's heart entrusts the cuckoos. There are tears in the moon and pearls in the sea, and the sun is warm in Lantian, which has already produced smoke. This feeling can be regarded as a memory, but it was already at a loss at that time. After searching the poems and talks, I got two explanations, but I still feel that I don't understand them."Zhongshan Shihua" written by Liu Tun of the Song Dynasty said: "Li Shangyin has the meaning of Mo Xiaoqi, the person in "Jinse Poetry", or it is the name of Linghu Chu's Tsingyi."——A danjiao grows 50 out of nowhere It's really strange.Song Dynasty Xu Wei wrote "Yanzhou Poetry Talk": "..."Ancient and Modern Lezhi" says: "Jinse is a tool, its columns are like the number of strings, and its sound is suitable and clear." It also says: "Grief Qinghe said, "The servants of Linghu and Chu could play these four songs in the past, and the four lines in the poem are like the four songs...." The middle four lines can be divided into four pieces, which seems to be possible, but the two couplets at the beginning and the end are incomprehensible. I closed my eyes and chewed these few poems slowly in my mouth. The front legs of the chair naturally lifted off the ground and shook again.The sun came in and caressed my body like a grandma's big soft hand. "The first song, the first song..." These three words hit my mind suddenly from nowhere, hitting a bright spark, and all kinds of thoughts and thoughts in my mind burned up and rose up. The bright blue-purple flame made everything clear under its light. "The first song! The first song! This is the author's preface. Yes, it is "Hanshu·Jiaosi Zhi": The emperor of Thailand sent a plain girl to drum fifty-stringed harps. Five strings." The first couplet means that I don't understand why my poems are always full of sadness and sorrow, but every sentence is the condensation of my love, the folding of my years.The second couplet refers to the content of the poem: my confusion and exploration of Sekongren, my infatuation with the emperor-everyone should know about the cuckoo's cry of blood.Zhonglian is about the art of poetry: First, the words are used, such as the vast sea, such as the bright moon, such as the bead, such as the tears, and then the creation of the environment, which is probably clear: like the sun is warm in the blue field, and the good jade produces smoke, which can be expected but not placed in front of the eyebrows... Connecting is looking back, sighing... the feeling and the scene are right in front of you, but why was I so confused at the time!I was in such a good mood, like Archimedes ran naked from the bathtub to the street, shouting: 'I found it!I found it! 'Pen! my pen!I'm going to write it down..." It really corresponds to the metaphor of the primary school teacher: "Your pen is like a soldier's gun. What can a soldier do without a gun on the battlefield?" "Be an officer." I thought so in my heart at the time, but I was not bold enough to say it out.Now that I think about it, an officer would have a small pistol for decoration, but I didn't even have a ready-made pencil end. If there is any way, cut it.The emotion has not yet calmed down, the hands are trembling with excitement, the brain is not in the hands at all, as a result, the wood is not cut, and a piece of finger is almost missing. "Bring it to me." Probably because the brain is not in the hands, the fingers are under the control of Meng Xun, and the pencil and knife are automatically handed over to her.She opened the pencil case and swept away all the remaining bald pencils. "You don't take Chinese class anymore?" I asked, feeling very strange.Meng Xun is very serious and hardworking on weekdays. There is a note with the word "work hard" in the pencil case, which reminds imaginative boys to associate toilets and other places. "Is it not enough to have one talking next to me every day?" Then I ignored me, took out a piece of thick bright yellow paper, and folded a small paper boat.Let the pencil roll under the knife to draw the boundary of the circle, and then cut the sawdust into the paper boat according to the boundary with one knife at a time. Her hands are very white, holding the pen holder tightly, the back of the hand reveals faintly visible green veins, the nails are short and clean and transparent, clearly revealing the red blood underneath. "Read your book." She ordered softly. It was the first time I heard a girl use this tone, and I thought it was very interesting, so I took a closer look at her for the first time: not black hair, small eyes, and a straight face. The palm is wide, but the cheeks have a thick blood that is rare now.To be honest, it can't be called beautiful, but it makes people feel very comfortable. When you look closely, there is something different between the eyebrows under your eyes. I didn't think about what it was. The pencil had already been cut into a rough shape, and she scraped back and forth with the blade on the cut places, and these places gradually became round and smooth.But I couldn't wait, grabbed the pencil that hadn't been scratched, and wrote in the blank space of the page.The body temperature she left on the pen holder spread to her fingers, along her arms, and went straight into her heart. There was a strange feeling in her heart, but she didn't point out its existence or explore its cause, and continued to write. Soon, the bell rang.The Chinese teacher swallowed a few words that he wanted to say regretfully, and stood up: "If you want to know what's going on, let's listen to the next section to break it down." After finishing speaking, he went out. I also ran to the playground to play a few kicks, and I didn’t think about the class anymore. When I came back, the pen was all sharpened, and Meng Xun was not here. I picked up the paper boat full of pencil shavings and stuffed it into my Inside the table. 3 How time flies, today, I am seventeen.My last birthday seemed like yesterday.What have I done this year?When I think about it carefully, I can't think of anything.My heart felt empty at the moment, as if I had lost something. Glancing at the classmates around, everyone was reading books, square and thick textbooks. The eyes were actually empty, and the Chinese teacher said: "The eyeballs turn around sometimes, and they don't turn around." Suddenly, a disgust surged up in my heart, for the textbooks, or for stealing my treasures, and dragging myself from the sky. to the underground devil. Seventeen years ago, why did I come to this world?Where do I come from?Where will I go after a hundred years?Especially now, what am I?why am i hereWhat am I going to do?Thinking about these problems, thinking about my classmates, I can't help but feel a little desolate: school, cafeteria, home, eating books, eating, sleeping, we are like a donkey pulling a mill, our eyes are blindfolded by something, Going around in one place, I only know to move forward desperately, but I can't escape from this circle in the end, and I don't know what I am grinding.However, I now know that there must be the blood on my cheeks, the strength in my body, and the courage in my heart: from a chair attend lectures wake up forget what is me, you day pick yourself up move go home time is such a line One step is ten years but why still afraid of hearing the rain Afraid of hearing cuckoo A few days ago, the Chinese teacher accidentally mentioned that they were in another class. There were two small pots of plastic flowers on the podium.Naturally, there are one or two positive ones in our class, just as it is very puzzling to me that every class, no matter how big or small, always has one or two fat people.It may be a drawer principle problem: divide more than n fat people into n sets in any definite way, then there must be a set containing two or more fat people. Ruya, the branch secretary, is a positive example.These days, positivity is not a very attractive quality, but the sum of innocence, two hundred and five, and the like are connected together.In addition, Ru Ya is the secretary of the Communist Youth League and has a taste for politics. Politics always reminds people of liars, buffoons, and farces, so every time she does something, she always attracts some comments from behind, but she never seems to let go of it. on heart.I admire this kind of courage. People must have some personality. People are not like gold and silver, so they cannot be liked by everyone.In Ruya, as long as the teacher likes it, it’s fine, just like in the past, concubines, ministers, eunuchs, etc., only wanted the emperor to be happy.Like concubines, ministers, and eunuchs, she is very smart and reasonable. Regarding the matter of flowers, branch secretary Ru Ya blamed herself for not thinking about it in advance.To make up for it, she brought a used Coca-Cola aluminum can and a handful of fake flowers the next day.Not one day later, everyone decided to throw away the fake flowers, saying that there was a miasma, so I pulled out a bunch of dogtail grass, put some water in the aluminum can, the can was red, and matched with the fluffy green, it was very refreshing Everyone is very happy. Meng Xun was acting weird and awkward today, as if he was hiding something.Now, get out of class is over, those who love to play ran out to play, those who love to learn have no feeling for the ringtone, wedged in the seat like a log, facing the book, staring at each other, feeling strange to each other. She finally couldn't bear it anymore, ran to the podium, threw the dogtail grass away, went to the water room to change the water in the aluminum tank, then returned to her seat, and carefully took out the cellophane in a cone shape from her schoolbag, which contained Wrapped in a large and rare purple flower.He walked quickly to the "vase" and inserted it.When I came back, my face was as red as that flower. Everyone discussed where to find such a big rose.Sitting on a chair, she muttered softly: "No, no." Her face was still red. "Is it a rose?" I asked. "How did you know?" "Rose has fragrance, but rose doesn't. I smell it." She seemed to sigh slightly, with her arms slanted on the table, and one side of her red face leaned over, leaning so low that it was almost touching the table.He turned sideways and looked at me, with a faint smile on his face, like the moonlight covering the surface of the pool at night. "Happy birthday to you!" "Thank you, thank you." My heart tightened, and I didn't dare to think about it.It happened that a lot of boys came running over to deliver letters to me, and one of them yelled. "100011, 100034, 100024, these are three letters, or code names, very mysterious, very mysterious, there is a problem here, these people are monkeys from which mountain, chickens from which cage, our next plan is to mobilize the masses... .” There are always some people in the class, mainly women, who always have to display the letters received from others in various obscure and profound ways, for fear that others will know or not.Just like in the 17th and 18th centuries, any aristocratic old lady in Europe who had an unenlightened father treated the flowers that symbolized love sent by the princes and uncles.I don't have such a good taste, and now it's such a situation, so hurry up and stuff the letter. "That's the zip code. Ivory can't grow out of the ape's mouth. Let's go. It's my birthday. Go to the shop to drink yogurt." He hugged them all the way to the door, not daring to look back. "Why are you so anxious, there are no wolves behind, and no girls in front." "What did you eat this morning?" "Rice porridge, buns, what's wrong?" "I thought you took aphrodisiacs!" What is quiet, deep, sad, sad, everyone laughs, the sun shines, and the breeze blows, and you don’t know where you have slipped. When I came home from school and saw my mother, for some reason, I had a strange desire in my heart, which I had never had before, to take a closer look at her. "Who is this?" After looking at it, I felt even more strange, familiar, yet so strange, as if staring at a Chinese character that had been written thousands of times, suddenly, as if I had never seen it before, and more and more The more I look at it, the more I feel that I don't know this person, and the more I look at it, the more I feel that this person is a stranger: I have two temples, but they were always green before?Now mine is black.The cheeks are yellow, but they have always been rouge?Now mine is red.The body is shrunken, and the back is a little hunched, but the body has always been rigid before?Now I am taller.What's the matter with all this?I know it's definitely not my fault, but I can't help but think, I stole my mother's black hair, mother's beauty, and mother's tough body, otherwise, why are these things on me now?As the saying goes: Catch the rape and catch the double, catch the thief and catch the dirty, I am a human with all the dirty.I sighed secretly, and even I felt strange: "I am old, the years are so fast. Everything is like yesterday." The desolation in the school came to my heart again, and I puffed up my chest, feeling heavy , like a grown-up. The eyes moved down, and the eyes fell on the mother's belly, and the childlike heart turned again: "Did I come out from here? How did I come out? Like a flower, the belly split open, and I jumped out of it." Does it come out? Or roll out like a chicken laying an egg? It's strange that when man-made other things, he always knows what it looks like, what its properties are, and what it can do; Everything, what it looks like, what it's called, whether you like spinach, what will happen when you grow up, it's strange..." "Laughing again, what kind of idea are you thinking about?" They all said that I looked cute when I was dreaming.Mom also smiled, with thin crow's feet in the corners of her eyes. "What do you want to eat tonight? Sambo Le's cake or noodles?" "Let's eat the dumplings." It's not that the dumplings are delicious, but because of its only characteristic: trouble. These days, everyone has their own problems. Everyone in the family seems to have a lot of worries. They are busy, but they don't know what they are busy with. It is rare for everyone to get together.It's good to make dumplings and chat. I am the youngest in the family, and I usually make dumplings. I only care about two things: making trouble and eating.But today my sister has a cold and there are not enough people, so I have to do it.In fact, I'm not stupid, I can do everything, but I just don't want to do it. The great mother once pointed out brilliantly: "It's just laziness." “姐，我告诉你一个偏方，就着那盘小菜，你二两白酒喝了，一出汗什么感冒，包好。” “你还是饶了她吧，酒喝完了，她就开始嘀咕了：你们这么包元宵，不对吧？”哥哥赶着皮说。 别人包的饺子，模是模，样是样，总能让人想起花呀朵呀，而我包的。 怎么看怎么象猪耳朵。不过总归是要吃进肚子里去的，还是猪耳朵实在。花呀朵呀，让心好的人不忍下口，就象唐僧不吃人参果一样。就个人观点，我的心也还不坏。 “妈，十七年前，您生我的时候，有什么奇怪的地方没有？” “你问这干什么？” “圣人出生的时候，都有异象。黄帝有个曾孙叫高辛，生出来的时候，就会说话，双脚着地后，也不哭，环视四周，告诉大家他自己的名字。后来他长大了，日月所照，风雨所至，没有不听他的。就是平日里，圣人一举一动，也与众不同，也有征兆。老子要过函谷关，守门的尹喜爬到城楼上一望，只见一团紫气从东边直飘过来。从小我就觉着自己和别人不一样，身上仿佛总有一种压力，象是有一件工作在等着我去完成，而且只有我能完成。我来到这个世界就是为了执行这个使命，心里总是毫无理由地相信将来自己会做出点什么。” “别瞎想，不过别说，还真有点。生你的那天夜里，天特别黑，我作了一个梦，梦见自己骑着一条大龙大飞，龙有须有尾的，鼻子，眼儿都看得真真儿的。” “您没骗我吧？” “我骗你这干嘛呀？也不知道你将来能不能成个人物。” “我知道，一个人想成就能成。” 吃完饺子，我钻进自己的小屋。小屋小得不能再小，纵三步半，横三步。 一床，一桌，一椅，两墙书，就把整个屋子挤得满满的。剩下的空间将将容下瘦得几乎不占体积的我。可以利用的空间都给了书，即使这样，坐在椅子上读书的时候，十几本实在放不下的书还得堆在床上。睡觉的时候，再把它们请到椅子上。偶一想来，倒也应了古诗里的那句意境：“一床明月半床书。” 鉴于空间，占地方的摆设是不敢奢望的，仅有的几样装饰也是能钉个钉子，随便可以挂起来的，比如那个女孩子送的布缝的丑娃，表情阴森古怪的黑陶卡面人，带壳的蒙古刀。大面的墙都让给书了，稍大一点的字画是不能有的。 只是在书架的玻璃门上贴了一幅用灵飞体写的极小的柳永那首《凤栖梧》，床头边上的墙角贴了一幅仿作的油画——《坐着的恶魔》，也是缩了许多倍的。 而且小屋破得不能再破，头上是黑黄的屋顶，颤颤危危的，活像老奶奶说话时的脸，总让人有种大难临头的感觉。书上说吝啬鬼即使口袋里有数不清的钱，他也象没钱吃下一顿午饭一样过日子。他们说我有时候看书着急的样子，也象明天就要死了似的。只有我自己清楚，这或许存在某种可能。屋子冬冷夏热。夏天因为屋顶子薄，日头一晒就透，热得人恨不能脱光衣服再脱下一层皮。冬天有火的时候，屋子里很舒服，可是后半夜火老是灭，孟郊的《谢人惠炭》说：“暖得曲身成直身。”我的遭遇正相反：被窝里暖暖和和读上两三页《情史》、《野叟曝言》之类的私书，懵懵懂懂地直着身子睡着，后半夜正做着略带点颜色的梦，冷得一翻身，醒了，身子已经蜷成了一团。 即使这样，更确切地说是恰恰因为这样，我极喜欢我的丑斋。换了一个地方，书就读着没有这么香，写文章就没有这么畅，呆着就没有这么自在，就连睡觉也没有在这儿这么有曲有折，有滋有味。 象现在，汤足饭饱，进得屋来，反锁上门，拉上窗帘，世界就好象被挡在了外边，世界就好象与我无关，世界就好象暂时可以不去理会。屋子里就我一个人，我可以改变这里的一切，我是这个世界的主宰。一个人的灵气（或称先天元气），顾名思义，是一种气体，它因为存在空间的扩大而变稀，它因为别人灵气的存在而变杂，变得不纯粹，变得失去的本性。而这个小小的屋子里就我一个人，自己的灵气弥漫在整个空间里，浓浓的，厚厚的，象开辟鸿蒙一般沌浑不清。我在这里，总能享受到一种绝对的孤独，或者说一种残酷的自由，总能体会到在别处从没有体会到的东西：实在，或者说，“我”。 扭亮灯，灯罩日久天长，已经被灯光漂成了蜡黄。几封信，大多是我预料中的，说他们许久不给我写信，我也许久不给他们写信，无它，只是一个懒字。祝我生日快乐，祝我吃好，睡好，早日长胖。只有一封例外，信很短： 秋水，不用问，你现在学习生活情况一定不错。 或许你会惊讶，是哪个陌生人的信呢？因为那个总躲在大树背后，在你绝发现不了的时候看你，那个又瘦又丑的小姑娘，早已退到你记忆底层了，渐渐在消失…… 可我恰恰相反，你的名字以及音容笑貌，依然很清晰。初中三年，你毕竟让我一直佩服，我欣赏你的才华，你的与众不同。这便是我寄给你这封信的唯一原因。 happy Birthday. 越色上 １９８８年×月×日 信里还夹着一张贺卡，一丛绿得透明的苇叶，滚圆的露珠在叶片上银亮亮地闪着，顶上齐头一行英文：hope all your dreams come true soon后边是她的赠言：对你——我希望我一切美好祝愿都迟到。 我把信慢慢地插回信封，缓缓地放下。现在已经很少有人能把信写得这样短了，他们没有这个本事，包括我自己。 静静地坐在椅子里，我关上灯，静静地坐在黑暗里，这是怎样一种复杂的感觉哟！一场好电影演完，壁灯骤然亮起来，映出周围惨白而无表情的脸，木然地站起，机械地向外走。一本好小说读完，略含倦怠地合上，窗外是一方黯蓝色的天，一盏灯也没有，一切都睡了，只剩下我自己。一幅造型，颜色都极普通，极普通，知名度却极高的画，看了不知道多次，也看不出什么深意。一个阴阴的下午，偶然路过美术馆，再一次从画面前走过，无意地一回头，目光停在画面上，心里一紧，脚步再也移动不了了……这是怎样一种复杂的感觉哟！ 一动也不想动，一句话也不想说，甚至不愿去想，不愿去分析，到底是什么东西使我失魂落魄。只想一个人静静地呆着，象是小时候在大街上和妈妈走散了，周围人告诉我，好好站着，哪也别去。象是丢了什么，脑子里空空的，身子里虚虚的，只有那股我实在说不清也不想说的情绪左冲右撞，结而不化。眼睛看不清东西，整个人恍恍惚惚的，只觉得泪水直涌上来，却又流不出。越色，越色…… 这时候，见着人就烦，就讨厌，他若硬跟我讲话，十有八九，我会毫无理由地和他吵上一架。事后他觉着委屈，我更觉着委屈。这时候，泪可以流出来了，清清凉凉地，从眼角静静地淌到嘴角，咸咸的。一点不觉着难过，反而很痛快，象是被解脱了一般高兴： 回望为你枕残的梦 燃过的小诗 为你暗干的泪 浅黄的底子 你旧时的眼睛是饱熟的橄榄 现在望去 仍是我橄榄蜜汁般的泪泉 4 英国人写过一篇游记，说有个猎人打猎的时候，意外地捡了只小老虎，他带它回家，用牛奶和煮得极烂的兔子肉喂它。虎渐渐长大了，和他一同打猎，舔他吃剩的盘子底，睡觉把他拥在怀里，暖出他的好梦。天气好的时候，有人还看见老虎驮着他满山遍野跑。 可他什么时候也没有忘记在口袋里放一支专为它准备的手枪。 我的情绪就是自己自小养起来的虎。理智就是那手枪，时间是它最有效的子弹。坏脾气就象不倒翁，按下去它又竖起来，你按得越使劲儿，它竖起来摆得越厉害。最清醒的理智告诉最聪明的人，对待情绪的最佳方法就是置之不理，自己该干嘛干嘛去。好比对付大哭的孩子，用鲧的方式，想甜言蜜语堵住汤汤浩浩的泪水，下场也只能和鲧一样，九年无功，殛于羽山。有经验的大人就学禹，既然他想哭，就让他哭去吧，不一会儿，他便小声抽噎，透过虚掩在脸上的手指缝看你，盼你来理他。这时候，坚持就是胜利，再用不了多久，小孩子又会欢蹦乱跳地跑到外面，爬树摔屁股去了。 生日那天不痛快的心境，几天下来，也淡了许多，在我们这个年龄，心中没有忧伤，就象没有皱纹一样。如果有，也是自己望天傻想，抬头抬出来的，或是挤愁拧恨，皱眉皱出来的。 到了今天，早上一推门，下雪了！心里当下充满了惊喜，没有闲愁暗恨呆的地方了。 用广告上的话说：“不一样就是不一样。”的确，一切都变了，一切都变得神奇。就连上学骑车这天天重复的机械运动都变得有趣，好似第一次穿上旱冰鞋的感觉，简直可以说是一种娱乐。拐弯的地方，一个人一捏闸，一个筋斗，接着便是第二个，第三个，第四个，如同骨牌游戏，一连串趴下了一片。大家善意地笑着，一半笑自己，一半笑别人，互相搀扶着爬起来，拍拍身上的雪。老人道：“走啦。”年轻的叫：“走你。”大家又把车蹬了起来。多难得笑！多难得的彼此亲近！多难得的“不正常” ah!越下越大的雪掩盖了平日里看倦看厌的一切，大家仿佛暂时忘记了总戴着的那副漠然的面孔，久无声息的童心又在冬衣紧裹下“砰砰”跳了起来。 My God!如果没有一觉醒来，发现杨柳一夜间绿了。如果没有回家路上一场骤雨，你我三二个人披一个象征性的雨衣，嘻嘻哈哈往家跑。如果没有一封飘乎而至的信，在你心灰意懒的时候告诉你，她喜欢你。如果没有……如果没有这样一个个大大小小的意外，大大小小的惊喜，我们将怎么忍耐这日复一日的平淡呢？因为有明天，我们才能熬过长夜，我们平静地过着一天又一天，一年又一年苦读的日子，也是因为我们的坚信，在不远的将来，在那里存在着一个奇迹，我们将不在寂寞，就象火山在对下一次爆发的等待中，默然无语。 坐在自己临窗的老位子上，蒙在窗玻璃上的水雾更重了。这种天气，家里的窗户上一定开满了白白的冰凌花。小的时候，就把鼻子贴在凉凉的玻璃上，红红的鼻子头压得又圆又扁，惊奇地半张开嘴谛视窗外小院子的一个角落。 北京的冬天，即使没雪，天也是淡灰色的，云也是淡的，落了叶子的乔木是深灰的，号称常青的松柏，远没有春夏绿得鲜亮，着了太多的尘土，也显得灰蒙蒙的。What about people?土绿、蓝黑，又是一片沉沉的灰调子。上天下地，活脱幅淡墨山水。下雪了，就如同来了一位大师，将这幅已完成的画，再略略皴上几笔，整幅画面的气韵立刻生动起来。 看得兴起，我伸出拳头，做个儿时的游戏，用拳眼在玻璃的水雾上轻轻一压，收回来，玻璃上就留下个小小的脚丫印。孟寻觉着有趣，看了看我，我点头默许，就接着向上斜斜地续了一个。我俩，就你一个我一个地印了起来。很快，脚印就沿到了水雾的尽头，再上面，就是透明的玻璃了。稍微一下身子离远点看去，这串脚印就好象挂在远远的树枝上。 仿佛有个小小的精灵，从我们手里钻出来，顺着树干歪歪斜斜地爬到树梢，一蹦，蹦到了天上，再也看不见了。 大概是雪天容易迷路，数学老师又绕开了她的圈子。教室里死静，隐隐能听见数学老师脑子里发出咯吱咯吱的声音。曾经有一个时期，因为纪律原因，我被调到老师高度近视的眼睛所能控制的势力范围——第一排。 每当发生这种情况，我就找机会和她一对眼，再对她“嘿嘿”一笑，如同按了Break键，跳出死循环。老师长出一口气，对我也报之一笑。之后再讲什么，就和以前毫不相干了。俨然一位围棋高手对于无论什么法也处理不好的棋，最聪明的办法就是别处它投。如果你再追问她前面某处到底是什么意思，她心里或许会象那位善草书的爷爷，要怪讶小孙孙为什么不早问那个字念什么的。 有时候，我真禁不住问自己：“如果哥伦布有一位数学老师，他会发现美洲吗？” 而且今天，我比以往更不耐烦。印度的妇人盼望“妻子节”，是因为可以扔掉终年的劳作，穿上花衣服，尽情跳跳，是因为可以抡起扳子打一顿终年虐待自己的丈夫。学生盼望雪天，也是因为可以发泄一下，表达不易找到别的方式表达的情感：女孩子们吱吱喳喳地聚在一起，象是为了团结起来加强力量，又象是怕一个人目标太小，不容易被男孩子看到。男孩子们散成一个圈，从四周围上去，手里的雪球向自己最感兴趣的几个脑袋使足劲扔过去，好让她们印象深刻。女孩子们满是兴奋地埋怨男孩子手狠心黑，看见他站在自己面前，搓着冻得红紫的手傻笑，暗骂声：“该死的！”追上去，一捧雪填到他的脖子里。被追的男孩子装模做样地逃着，心里不由地想起《红高粱》里的小调：“你搭起那红绣楼呀，抛散着红绣球呀，正打中我的头呀……”唯一不同的，只是雪球是白的，雪球在她身上开花，就算说出了总找不到机会，总缺乏勇气对她（他）说的话。手捏的雪球在她身上开花，就算手摸到了由于礼教大防从不敢摸的她。 三分钟内，我问了孟寻四次时间。我从不戴表，嫌那玩意拘在腕子上是个累赘。再说，有秘书在，领导同志也无这个必要，孟寻干脆摘下表，放在我桌上。 唉，时间这鬼东西，就象，（我在寻找一个比喻），就象法国小说里写的女人，你越为她着急，越对她在意，她越是慢条斯里，越是庄重矜持，不满足你的愿望。我决定用最有效的老办法：不去理它。实践中，我才发现心里有个念头，安安静静看几页书，那就必然会象打胎一样难受。 扭头再看孟寻，她也是望着窗子，一副不耐烦的样子。灵机一动： “给你出道智力题，现在班上一共有四十八个人，如果老师有事出去了，比如拔颗虫牙，买萝卜或是干脆打雪仗去了，请问，也就是你作回答，你瞧，中国语言就是这样黑白不分，奥妙无穷：现在，班上还剩下几个人？” “先问你一个题：一颗树上有四十八只鸟，一枪打死了一只，你说，树上现在还有几只鸟？” 相对一望，莫逆于心，微笑是自然的。如果一个念头，太多的人明白，流着鼻涕的孩子也会傻笑，那就难免庸俗，那就是《十八摸》要是只有一个人了然，却又很难证明它的价值。这样最好，两、三个人，拈花一笑，直指人心，见性成佛。 “可以说是正解，但不能得满分。如果那些鸟是木头的，蜡的，泥的，总之是假的，没气的，听见枪响不会飞的。同理，咱们支书茹亚是绝对不动的。咱们的动力黄根，和小黄根们更是绝对不动的。你嘛，也难讲。” 讨老师喜欢的热爱生活的头脑绝对清楚的茹亚，很喜欢写诗，现代诗。 所有风花雪月，小桥流水，有情趣的场景，她都绝不放过，总强迫自己得写出篇东西来。所以每次春游，秋游，她都腾不出时间也拿不出心思来玩，脸上总是一副大便干燥的样子，和她熟的人告诉我，那是在写诗。 她的诗嘛，我才疏学浅，只发现了一个特点——“难懂”——我不懂，谁也不懂，我想包括她自己。与此相对，黄根儿的特点，用大竹英雄扇面上的话说就是——“不动”——从早到晚，从冬到夏。并且很影响了前后几个女生，也伴着她不动。根2根据给她们起了个响亮的名头——“弱智三姐妹。”我总是想不通，教科书怎么那么可爱呢？能让她们朝思暮想，总在看，也总觉着看得不够。没有千斤票，没有黄金屋，也没有电影明星硕大的脑袋对你吓人地笑，抬头便是数学老师的脸。不过看她们的表情里却也并没什么爱意，有时候，与其说是她们在看书倒不如说是书在看她们。至于孟寻，她有些时候很怪，很不合群，不大喜欢人多，以前我们打的时候，她总在远远的地方笑着看着，攥出一串又圆又白又小的雪球，我没“弹药”了，就去要她攥好的，她也给。 “All, all is changed.” “A terrible beauty is born.” “我随便说了一句，你说的什么意思呀?” “我还以为你要考我呢，噢，这是叶芝的两句诗，你随口说出来，说明你很有天才。你瞧里面没有一个生字，字面上没有一处不好懂，但你又绝不敢说自己明白了。就象柳宗元那首“千山鸟飞绝”一样……” 我又侃开了。倒不是想显示什么，只是象肚子有个屁就放出来一样，嘴里有篇话也总习惯不假思索与节制地说出来。（哦，我忽然明白了语文老师的苦衷，开始觉着他有点可爱了。）下课铃响了，在我侃到兴头上，最不想让它响的时候。Everything happens in the world when one is least prepared。 喇叭里传出胡校长有特点的女音：“学校不提倡打雪仗，严禁把雪球带入教学楼，严禁在教学楼周围打，严禁在操场上打，违者本人影响三好生评定，所在班影响评选先进班集体，希望团委及学生会干部带头。……” 上课铃响了，学生们三三两两慢腾腾地回到教室，脸和手冻得通红。黄根们坐在位子上头也不抬。茹亚倚在窗口，胳膊支着窗台，手背托住下巴，五指尖尖，仿佛一只样子过时，穿着不适的高跟鞋。在司各特的小说里，古老庄园的女庄主们，就是以这种姿势，整天在哥特式的穹窿底下，遥望一位白衣骑士，胯下一匹黑马，从田野远处疾驰而来。我往楼下一探头，底下只有一个贪玩的低年级男孩，还没回班，袖口蹭着冻出的清鼻涕，踅摸着把剩在手里的雪球扔给谁。 喇叭又响了：“学校三令五申，可仍有学生……”这回是叶校长的山东口音。胡校长和叶校长，一正一副，一女一男，一瘦一胖，而且有一样的脾气：从不听我们学生的，却让我们学生听他（她）的。从不喜欢我们学生，却让我们喜欢他（她）。自然而然，就把两个人并起来，简称“叶胡”。自然而然，要想到晚上方便用的工具。 担搁了很长一段，学生们才安定下来。这节课讲文天祥的《指南录》后序，语文老师清清嗓子：“这篇课文精彩处在第四段，'呜呼！予之及于死者不知其几矣！诋大酋当死。骂逆贼当死……'一共十八死。象今天下雪，捏闸可摔。拐弯可摔。……摔倒，瞬间事也，摔而摔矣。而境界危恶，层见错出，非人世所堪。痛定思痛，痛何如哉！……”听着老师说这十八摔的痛快劲儿，我忽然想到了泻肚。 让语文老师摔他的死他的去吧。我碰碰孟寻。 “你今天可太不对了，我管你要雪球，你反倒帮着她们打我。” “那是因为她们追的太急，我来不及递给你，只好扔给你，不是打着你脑袋了吗？你接不着是因为你太笨了。还怨人家。” “真了不得了，我那些胡扰蛮缠的本事全让你们学去了，倒是学点好。 我再问你，往我脖子里塞雪球不是来不及吧？ " “那是因为我在背后打中你了好几次，可我力气太小，你都没注意到，所以就……” “理由充分，理由充分。”我想看看她是怎生一副得意样子，一看之下，脑子里莫名其妙地产生一个念头，嘴给无由地说出来：“您，您好象比以前漂亮了。” 她还是静静地看着我，眼里好象有种绝不象征高兴的东西，我连忙变话题，心里暗骂自己大胆。 "are you hungry?" “饿。”她那种神色不见了，把红红的脸侧贴在桌面上，怯生生地回答，象个无助的小孩。 我从位子里变出个面包，分一半给她。通常，上课吃东西有两种方式：一种适用于小物件，话梅呀，蜜饯呀，巧克力球呀，手绢包了，在擦鼻涕的过程中随手抹进嘴里。这种方式虽然隐蔽、文雅，但总嫌不痛快。坐在后排的更愿意采用第二种方式——苦读式。这是从黄根们读书的姿势中获得的灵感，演化来的：额头贴在桌面上，嘴和桌面平行或稍低，把面包之类大口大口，痛痛快快地塞进去。 “秋水