The autumn wind blew and the hut became bigger.

A few drops of cold woke him from his sleep. When I opened my eyes, there happened to be a drop on his mouth-he went through it.

The rest of the thatched grass saw the sky overhead and the waning moon.

He tried to prop up his weak body.

Rain mixed with sand and stones swept over his cheeks, and even the body of a gray mouse hit his nose.

Light beam. However, he didn't have time to worry about it-the thatch on the roof was clearly lifted by the wind and cut through the sky.

The whole. The rest of the sleepiness disappeared at this moment. He got up and ran out of the door, but the pattering of sandals was not unexpected.

Wake up the sleeping baby.

The wind is still roaring, passing through the gap between the leaves and the lake, sweeping up the rustling and tumbling waves; Also mixed with soil.

Stones hit his chest, eyes and lips through his shabby robe, which made him tremble all over.

He tried to get them back, but he didn't know which direction to go-three or four tufts of thatch were stopped by the branches of the buttonwood tree.

Living, writhing and trembling on it; Others were swept into the lake in the distance.

Dozens of steps ahead also left a pile of thatch, and he tried to make himself fall faster. in the direction of northwest

Several thin figures ran faster to this pile of soaked thatch-he saw that they were children in the village.

Children, but they quickly picked up this pile of thatch step by step, and the smallest one even had the strength to pick up a small handful. They are very fast.

Quickly ran to the depths of the bamboo forest, and there was a faint light flashing. One of them turned and gave him a look. The cloth jacket was badly beaten, and it floated in the wind.

Show off in the room. Through the first light on the horizon, he came into contact with the anxiety, helplessness and joy that flashed faintly in his pupils.

And a little scared. This made him have no idea of chasing. In the dark night, their disappearing shadows made him trance.

The scene of a group of children playing and chasing in Chang 'an in the tenth year of Kaiyuan flashed faintly, which was the footsteps of these children.

But it conveys too much haste and confusion.

A slight but clear sigh rang in his mind. When the wind is weak, its scattered clouds gather and the rain suddenly falls.

Violent, began to hit him violently, his old shirt and cold skin were combined, and the rain took turns down the body car.

The silhouette is flowing, and at the same time, the broken house in front of him makes his heart seem to be soaked in cold.

Pushing open the wooden door was accompanied by a creaking sound. His little son seemed to wake up, frowning and cringing. He calm way

Lift him under the rest of the thatched roof-who knows if it can keep out the cold. He took advantage of the situation.

By the bed. The accumulated rainwater stays and takes away more heat. Fingers were deformed, stiff and cold by the rain.

Like the iron plow he holds during the day. He can't find a way to keep his body warm. So is the heart.

It's still as dark as when he woke up, so it's not clear. Maybe it will be an hour or a moment.

He thought, it may always be so dark. The rain seems to be a little less, and it has become slender and numb. They take their time.

Soaked every inch. He had to keep brushing the water off the bed board for his young son, and his body could not help but start shaking.

Like thatch in the wind, maybe stronger. But he doesn't feel sleepy. Since the last years of Xuanzong, it has been tossed and turned.

A light meal-only this time, it's even colder and wetter.

Out of the corner of his eye, he touched a roll of soaked books. Then he remembered the restaurant in Chang 'an, which was boiling hot.

Daughter-in-law, and the beggar wearing a tattered coat in the restaurant at that time. Maybe there should be many such places,

The high, flaming and dazzling oil lamp never goes out all night. A cold and tired traveler, a poor shelter.

Scholars, poor scholars, can stop inside to keep warm. Such a fantasy made his mouth stiff.

Some rise, and the cold seems to see the long-lost sunshine, and slowly recede.

However, his cold is far from over. There are too many places he can see and can't see.

Like him, people are waiting for raindrops, waiting every day and waiting forever.

The rain is still beating, and the sound is crisp.

One day, many, many years later, someone will sit as beautifully as he imagined, or better than he imagined.

In his room, reading the poem he wrote that day, you will know that there was once a man named Du Fu, who would feel his inner coldness and understand.

Untie the white hair on his head and think-let his waiting have an end.