One of the ladies said that students always ask what to do next. What can we achieve? I'm sad. I can't tell them.

Tie a yellow ribbon on the old oak tree.

edge in

Walking on this road of expansion, I heard the sound in the distance.

This is her way to and from school countless times-but now it has changed beyond recognition. It has been four years since she graduated from junior high school. She is on summer vacation and will be a sophomore when she starts school. For four years, the road she never walked again reminded her of the past for no reason.

I remember at that time, she always liked to pick up a beautiful colored stone and kick it. First she kicked it far away, then she caught up with it, then she kicked it, then she caught up with it ... kicked it all the way home or school until it reached the classroom or the door, or she could never find a place. ...

I thought of the girl who thought she had grown up and just entered junior high school. She appeared in the infinite sunset in Ran Ran: dragging her hunting bag (she called her bag a hunting bag), humming and picking some wild flowers and weeds to play with: either tear off the petals one by one and learn to spread flowers all the way; Either stick a hairy weed leaf like a cracked fan on the skirt as a decoration; Why don't you put two foxtail flowers in the buttonhole? ...

Well, there should be a big old banyan tree. There should have been an old wooden house under the old banyan tree. An old red lantern should have hung under the eaves of an old wooden house. The word "water" should be written in bright yellow on the red lantern ... Ah, yes, the windowsill of the old wooden house used to be where she piled up the thick fleshy petals of begonia. I remember that every time she passed by, she would take a look at the dark old house in the wooden window lattice and pile up the petals. But the wind, without authorization, dried them, blew them away, spilled them ... embroidered them all over the floor.

There, and there, there should be an old truck with a flat tire and peeling paint. It was abandoned there alone and no one ever came to tow it away. It used to be a milestone in bending. Because it's between home and school, I see it, which means it's not far from the destination.

When I was thinking like this, the bend suddenly stopped. Well, and, and, what about those two boys who fight and kill all day? What about the boys who always walk along the same road inadvertently, far or near? Suddenly, Bender saw the two familiar teenagers again, climbed into the cab of the broken truck from the door that could not be opened, sat on the worn leather cushion, turned the rusty steering wheel very seriously, pressed the silent horn desperately, and cried happily. ...

Today, four years later, the third grade students met for the first time. Is it possible to meet again?

Far away, the sound seems to be drifting off and on, and I found the direction when I turned a corner-oh, my God! I want to see them as soon as possible. Excited hearts are rising everywhere. It's been four years. What will they be like now? Did you change it or not?

Next to S Middle School, she saw the ballroom called "Go back to the house to play". Transparent floor-to-ceiling glass is being soaked by the melancholy sunset-like a glass of pure rose wine. It must be here.

Standing still, I heard English songs whispering in my ear. It was Simon and garfinkel's voice: "Tell her to knit me a thin shirt, and then coat it with parsley, perilla, rosemary and thyme ..."

This voice is so familiar, as if it is the deep call of the heart chasing God. I bent down and couldn't help shivering, and my heart hung up in panic. How come? Is he here too? So ... him? I don't know if I should go in for a while. Is this the reunion that has been waiting for many years without an ending story? Looking up, I saw a crescent moon rising in the east, faint, thin and transparent; In the west, there is also a red sun hanging, round, desolate and quiet. Alas-because the sun belongs to the day and the moon belongs to the night, only at that accidental moment will the sun and the moon meet.

Wandering around the corner for a long time, I finally didn't set foot in the hot side of Luo, and I walked forward and walked forward alone-it was getting dark, and all those memories, like magic, came out step by step ...

If you want to hear your childhood dreams, please sit on my steps.

Who wants to shed tears in those bright and muddled past events?

Listen to the first word.

"It's still early spring, sunny, shirt is a good mood. I feel a little cold when I sleep, and the plum blossoms are burning ... "Bend remembers that she got up early that day and recited" Bodhisattva Man "written by Li Qingzhao in a low voice. She pushed open the wooden window, lifted the flower curtains hanging on cymbidium and hanging bamboo plums, and scattered them to form a few light buds. It seemed shameful to want to open them. This season comes earlier than early autumn, but it still feels like spring.

July 2005-14

2 18.25. 160.* 3rd floor

The morning sun was blown all over the house by the wind. The old lady next door gets up earlier. A red pick was lit on the quiet stove. She was cooking lotus seed sugar porridge, and the smoke curled up, and the smell of rice permeated through the window. Plumes of illusory golden beams-penetrating the branches and leaves of buttonwood trees-scattered down, scattered down, and you can see smoke particles hanging in them. The crisp birdsong, empty, empty, seems to be close to the ear and far away in the bamboo forest.

I put a white towel around my curved neck, walking in the faint wind, and my hair is full of chic-flying slightly. I came to the well where osmanthus fell to the ground and made a cool well water with a wooden basin. Then, poured a spoonful of Bai Yutang dew in it, while stirring, according to the field by the well, scooped up water with a ladle, washed the elegant long hair-the natural breath, the fragrance of flowers and plants, so they were collected together in the hair. ...

The old lady next door put out the fire and sat on a small stool in the corner of an ancient stone covered with vines, holding a coarse mud bowl in her hand and blowing porridge. An old black cat crouched lazily at her feet, hunched in the sun. At this time, the old lady raised her eyelids and saw a little girl, wearing a white banana cloth dress, walking gracefully in the early morning light, with cool and delicate wet hair hanging over her shoulders.

"hey!" The straightforward old lady kept giving her thumbs up. "Little girl, how beautiful!"

Bend over and smile, as bright as a Bai Baihe blooming at the tip of the sun.

It was the end of the summer vacation and the new school year had not yet begun. Wan Wan received the admission notice from Key S. The notice said that it was the day when freshmen reported for duty-when they reported for duty, Wan Wan was a brand-new middle school student.

This is a dream day. In the past, I often saw students of S doing broadcasting exercises in the back window. My mother sometimes said, "Look, Bender-that is to say, only the smartest brothers and sisters of S can go to S, and Bender will go to S when he grows up!" When I said it, my eyes were full of expectation. Looking at big brothers and sisters from a distance with the music of radio exercises, I think they are really happy. At that time, in her eyes, s was heaven. If only I could walk in the street wearing the school badge of the 1970 s and strut in the envious eyes of all.

Unexpectedly, such a beautiful wish came true so soon.

Staying at home all summer vacation is really boring and boring. I'm looking forward to starting school early, so that I can meet new students early. So, I ate breakfast in a hurry and went to school anxiously.

Finally, I sat in a clean new classroom-Class 6, Grade 1, hmm. Everything is so wonderful, and outside the window, it is a flower pool full of white roses. Bend over and deliberately turn away, looking at those full buds casually. In fact, what she wants to learn more is-this room is full of top students from all primary schools-her new classmates.

Suddenly, on the other side of the mountain, a small black dot appeared on the horizon. Who flew in the sky and plated it with a shiny Phnom Penh? Gradually, the cold eyebrows grew cold, gradually, the British nose and lips rose, gradually, the face of a beautiful boy in Zhang Jun rose, and gradually, a boy with indigo jeans rose. He galloped across the horizon with two long legs and a huge red sun on his back. When he meets any obstacle, he crosses it, and everything seems so cold to him. He crossed the railing of the playground, crossed the horizontal line, crossed the bicycle, crossed the flower pond in front of the classroom ... Then he jumped again and suddenly stopped in front of everyone, as if he had made a gesture, and then he didn't jump with his face red, so he just found a vacant seat-really elegant as a leopard.

Bend down and blush, blaming yourself for watching a strange boy for so long. After all, thirteen is an active age. Bend deeply remembered that boy because of his cool and handsome running posture and indifference to everything.

Today, seven years later, Wan Wan recalled his shyness at that time and still felt chest tightness and shortness of breath. Is this the first mark he left on her? Maybe, maybe, in another hundred years, he-will still be the watcher in her heart?

Later, the head teacher, Miss Yan, came in. Teacher Yan at that time-so young and beautiful-was a fresh graduate of the Chinese Department of Beijing Normal University. She just stood quietly behind the podium, and didn't knock on the blackboard with a pointer like other teachers and shout, "Everybody be quiet! Everybody be quiet! " The classroom suddenly became quiet. She is like a wild lily swept by the mountain breeze in the morning fog. She is calm, demure and frank, with the fresh appearance of Lin Daiyu's classical beauty, but her bones are full of the vitality and courage of modern women. Her eyes just inadvertently turned an angle, suddenly enveloped the brilliance of a room. Everyone unconsciously lost their expression, and at that moment, they seemed to be shocked by her beautiful light.

July 2005-14

218.25.160. * 4th floor

As for what Miss Yan was wearing at that time, I couldn't remember it at the moment. Perhaps, what a real beauty needs is not those glittering gold and silver jewels-her own light is enough to eclipse all the jewels. I only remember that Teacher Yan likes interesting plant ornaments. She is always refreshing when she is smart. Or pick a red rose in bud and insert it obliquely in the curled hair, and pick a strand of hair to float on the cheeks and ears; Or string two delicate magnolia flowers and wear them on the buttonhole, shaking them step by step and swinging them step by step; Or, string a few bracelets of red bean bodhi on Hao's wrist. If you accidentally touch them, you will make a few crunchy sounds ... That natural feeling is found in this casual flower arrangement and grass planting-"Who is cuter than her? However, she lives alone in an empty valley ... She forgets the sleeves of muslin and the cold, leans on a tall bamboo and bathes in the sunset. " -No wonder that after reading Du Fu's "Beauty", everyone thought of Teacher Yan, the kind of beauty with a delicate fragrance. Later, when girls talk about those popular stars in private, they will unconsciously compare them with Miss Yan. As a result, compare to compare, but come to the conclusion, what is the first beauty? Where does Miss Yan smell like this?

That day, when Wan Wan first saw Miss Yan, she fell in love with her. Liking someone and hating someone happen at the same time. People who like it always like it, and people who hate it always hate it. There's never a reason.

I can't remember exactly what Teacher Yan said, except that at last she said that she would assign an assignment: "When everyone goes home, everyone will have a tape of about 30 minutes, with any content and form, as long as they show themselves incisively and vividly. After the start of school, we will choose an excellent' solo album' from each group of four. Then, together, and then awarded the first, second and third prizes ... "

At first, Wan Wan heard that he was going to do his homework, thinking that he was going to be busy doing his homework before the formal start of school. His boss was very depressed. After listening to understand that it was such an ingenious "homework", I smiled. Very creative-think about it, who has done such homework? From that moment on, Wan Wan made up her mind to try her best to leave a unique impression on Miss Yan.

On the way home, Wan Wan picked some small wild flowers from the roadside and put them in the buttonholes, at the same time, she planned to open her first "solo album" in her mind.

As soon as I got home, I took out a blank tape and chose a Sony one. After filling the wide mouth of the tape recorder, I can't make up my mind What should I say first?

So, I took out a pen and paper and wrote a draft. But stupefied sullenly, thought for a long time. Hey.-Where should I start? I looked at myself in the mirror over and over again, and I saw myself clearly. The face in the mirror is as flawless as an angel. Even if I look at it critically for a long time, I still can't find any shortcomings-too perfect, too perfect to be true. Virtual illusion is as fragile as glass, always with some sadness, always hurting people or themselves. It is because it is so perfect that my mother is worried: "It is said that the 18th National Congress of the Communist Party of China has changed, and it has become more and more beautiful. Bender is so perfect now, will he grow ugly when he grows up? "

Mom's worry is also a curved worry, hey-if only I could grow up like Teacher Yan. After a while, Wan Wan said these words: "My name is Wan Wan, just like the curved moon. I am a sentimental girl, very quiet and lonely. I like talking in front of the mirror, writing my name on the water, infiltrating music into the air and letting the wind blow away my long hair ... "

Wan Wan likes this emotional self-introduction. Cleared his throat, solemnly pressed the record and play keys, and read it again in a slow voice. The result is: very dissatisfied. Why is my voice so high and tight? Why don't you relax at all? Bending and criticizing. Then, don't hesitate to erase it-start over. Close your eyes, take a deep breath, and try to imagine the distant artistic conception peacefully and quietly. Then, start reading slowly. But I made a mistake without reading two sentences, hey-

The album is really not easy. In order to keep improving, Wan Wan took pains to record ... a short 30-minute album over and over again, which she spent a whole week. The album has a special feature, that is, it bends down and says, "When I am alone, I like to play bagpipes ..." Then, it will play a song called "Wait Tonight". Next, Wan Wan said, "There is one, which is my favorite ..." Then, he sang the old "Luhua Porridge" in the form of an oratorio, and sang and sang a square ring with a clear and high metallic echo. Say, "What's the matter? Can you recognize what music this is? " "I like writing poems, too. Although I can't write well, I still like writing. I can read a little poem I wrote for you." ... The whole album is monologue, with a kind of randomness and looseness, as if to say where I am going, which is actually deliberate and casual.

July 2005-14

2 18.25. 160.* fifth floor

In the process of the album, small accidents constantly make it look ridiculous, but when all this is over, Bender misses it for no reason: he misses the poetry reading that was interrupted because his mother opened the door; Miss a slip sound that was blown by mistake because the nerves were too tight at the end; I miss singing, and suddenly I can't stop laughing. ...

Then, I bent down on a piece of silver-gray cardboard and drew a girl with long hair surging in the wind with ink painting, with long eyelids hanging halfway up the mountain and dreamlike sadness on her face. Next to her, I wrote the word "true self" as the title of this album. Finally, a few strokes of white gouache were added to brighten it a little, and no other colors were filled in. This style of painting originated from Tie Your Shoe by Impressionist painter Degas-light and flowing outline, looming lines, simple and plain, faint and diffuse sadness, which Bender likes. Finally, Wan Wan cut it with a utility knife, folded it in a transparent box with adhesive tape, and made the envelope of the photo album. Well, as far as I'm concerned-I'm excited to have such a good effect-is there anyone more versatile than me? Bend down and think proudly.

A week after the start of school, Wan Wan handed in this "solo album"-"Real Me", just like a mother mussel handed over a pearl that had been bred for many years.

Teacher Yan specially arranged the theme class meeting in the afternoon to play the selected 12 album. That day, it was really an eye-opener-some said stand-up, some told stories, some played the violin, some played the guzheng ... but it turned out that Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon was in Class 116, Senior High School.

Later, the arc album appeared on the stage. From beginning to end, the students' exclamations never stopped. Yes, everyone clearly felt the quiet aura and the faint talent of Xu Ruo. Even teacher Yan couldn't help boasting about the bend, saying that there was a kind of artistic conception and aesthetic feeling, which was very rare among junior high school students.

The bend is really a bit cheerful, but I have repeatedly warned myself not to be happy too early-it has not been decided yet. But in my heart, I am confident for no reason-I thought she was the only one who won the championship.

Alas-when Zhou Yu died, he cried three times in a row: "Since you gave birth to Yu, why did you give birth to Liang?" Bend also wants to shout three times, "If you bend, why do you burn it?" . However, Zhou Yu is full of resentment and jealousy. What about bending? No resentment, no jealousy, but it is complicated.

When the last album was broadcast, the bell rang. At first, there was a commotion among the students. They were all packing their schoolbags and preparing to go home. However, suddenly came the voice, the clear voice-accompanied by an acoustic guitar, singing layer by layer-lingered in the breath and walked for several miles-came to an end, but it came vaguely, as if the heart was full of knots, and suddenly looked back-that was Richard Marx's "The Right to be Waiting", which sang slowly and softly: "Wherever you go, I will always be here ... (No matter where you go, no matter what you do, no matter how long you wait, no matter how sad you are, I will always be by your side) ... "Repeatedly, leisurely and long, like a white lotus quietly blooming, blooming-gradually revealing the distant lotus buds ... Everyone listened quietly and their hearts flew away little by little-

The listener is singing with his heart, and the voice stops, but it still lingers for a long time. With the murmuring and sighing of the voice, it is so direct at people's hearts. Perhaps, true art always comes directly from the mind and appeals to it? The bent heart is beating deeply. She didn't believe it was the voice of a thirteen-year-old boy. It's the wind that passes through the capital, the snow that falls on the plateau, which is painful and silent-

"My name is New Yan Fei." He said, "I will stand on the top of the snowy mountain, put on my clothes and wait for all the wind." Wherever the wind blows me, I will go. "

"Music?" He smiled, "is the intoxication of life. People will live in a favorite song at any time. I don't sing for anyone-just for myself. "

What the hell is this? So calm, so calm, so calm to say such profound words?

Later, he was strongly urged to stand on the platform and sing the old English "Parsley, Sage, Rose and Thyme" by Simon and garfinkel: "Tell her to knit me a thin shirt and wrap it with parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme ..." When singing. In fact, no one here can fully understand it, but even Xia, who is the loudest in the class, forgot the nonsense and listened. There won't be any language in this world that can make people all over the world cry slightly, because a language they don't understand is equal to air. However, music can. Music is a state of mind. It penetrates you and tells you everything. Perhaps, after many years, you can't remember the details of the lyrics, but as long as you hum a tune, that artistic conception is still-still in your heart.

July 2005-14

2 18.25. 160.* 6th floor

The sound stopped, attracting applause from the room, and the students applauded and incited: "Cool! New Yan Fei.-One more song! One more song! " So, with his legendary voice, he sang one old English song after another: Silent Voice, Unintentional Confession, Breeze under My Wings, and Yellow Ribbon on the Old Oak. ...

It turns out that monosyllabic words in English and Chinese are so different. It is as smooth as a swimming fish, rising, falling, swaying, stumbling, and intricately changing around, hurting your memories from time to time, so that you don't want to suppress anything, and you don't want to exile anything, just want to cry happily. ...

Bender naturally lost the first contest with him.

Later, English became popular in class. Listening to English and singing English have become the fashion in Class Six. Smart as summer rain, chewing gum in his mouth and wearing headphones in his ears, he made a seamless compromise by repeatedly telling his parents not to listen to music but to listen to the English walkman-listening to English. Girls also abandoned the popular gray love songs in the book and copied English crazily-although no one knew the main idea of the lyrics. The voice rises after class, and some people like to sing vaguely.

However, no one has ever been able to sing like him-never. So later, two-thirds of the girls in the class began to secretly love him, and one-third of the girls expressed their appreciation for him. Whether you can sing English well has become the standard for girls to evaluate the charm of boys.

Alas-nothing can surpass the height of music or a sigh-just like Sai Ren's beautiful voice, it can charm Odysseus to die in the wild and never return to the plan. His voice-which made Bender feel a thrill of joy for the first time, and he couldn't help looking up at the sky-wanted to attract clouds and make them forget themselves and fall to the ground.

When can he sing me a song? Bend down and think.

For many years, the album "Real Me" was still locked in the drawer, and it only won the second prize. Sometimes, Bend will glance at it occasionally, and I want to turn it out and listen to it, but in the end I don't.

Isn't that my dream when I was thirteen? Since it is a dream, it is impossible to catch it. Let it all go with the wind.-Huh?

Answer the second question.

Perhaps Bender just wants him to sing a song for himself, so he has been competing with him intentionally or unintentionally, hoping to beat him once one day-to impress him. However, in the next monitor election, Wan Wan lost, no matter whether he made up the exam or not.

Newly elected as the monitor of Class 6, Grade 1. .......