Contact the reality of life and write down some of your feelings about Tingyu. 〈Requirement: A certain degree of artistic beauty and language beauty, about 40 words〉

At night, everything in the mountains is silent. Staying in a guest room next to the temple is like sleeping on a spring pillow; listening to the spring late at night is a unique experience. The sound of the spring was soaked in the moonlight and sounded particularly clear. The sound of the spring that is pure during the day can be divided into many levels at this time: the one that is as soft and graceful as a fiddle is the stream flowing through the grass; the one that is as clear and crisp as a plucked string is the dripping spring leaking from the cracks in the rocks.

Those that are as thick as the roar of a double pipe should be thousands of small streams converging in the empty valley; those that are as powerful as the sound of copper pipes must be rapids rushing down the steep wall, and waterfalls falling into deep pools. As for the spring water flowing around the roots of the trees and the clear water lapping at the pebbles, the priorities are high and low, and each makes a different sound. These various spring sounds are woven together by an invisible baton, forming a wonderful symphony.

In the symphony of this spring, it seems that you can hear the passage of time, the changes in history, the birth, growth, reproduction, and death of life, and the voices of metabolism, from weak to strong, gradually unfolding, It rises and becomes the main melody. I leaned over to listen and distinguish, as if my mind was melting into the water, flowing with the spring, and swimming all over Ding Lake.

It is like spring water filtering through my heart, washing away the dirt, leaving behind deep feelings for me to taste and attract my imagination. Ah, I am completely intoxicated by the singing of the spring water. It is said that "the mountains are not high, but immortals are famous", but I say "the mountains are not famous, but springs are spiritual". Breeding vitality and nourishing all trees, spring water is the soul of Dinghu Mountain.

"Listening to the Rain" is such a simple topic, but the author wrote poems about the sound of rain around it, his mood when listening to the rain, and his associations when he heard the sound of rain.

Ji Lao, who studied knowledge, felt very comfortable listening to the sound of the iron sheet being beaten by the rain on the balcony roof. He could hear the sound of gold and jade vibrations, he could hear Huang Zhong Da Lu, he could hear the Big beads and small beads fall into the jade plate. He could also hear the rain sounding like playing a plain harp, dancing like thunderbolts, like a hundred birds chirping, like a rabbit falling and a falcon rising, and he was filled with joy when he heard it.

Listening to the rain, he thought of Sister Lin's favorite poem "Leave the lotus leaves to listen to the sound of rain" written by Li Yishan. He thought of his friend's poems, and also thought of Jiang Jie's "Young Man Listening to the Rain" in "The Poppy". Go..."

Ji Xianlin sighed with emotion before telling the reason why he was happy to hear the rain. The northern spring, which has been experiencing nine droughts for ten years, needs rain so much. This spring, there was a severe drought. Ji Xianlin watched the weather forecast every day and observed the clouds in the sky. Even in his dreams, he saw drizzle. How could he not be happy now that it was raining?

The sound of rain is diverse, and only elegant people can understand it. Listening to the rain made me realize my whole life.

“Heaven has meaning and the listener has feelings.” Reading Ji Lao’s prose, you can not only feel his broad mind, optimism and wisdom, but also learn the precious quality of “humility”. I remember that in "Listening to the Rain", Ji Lao called himself a layman from time to time. An Orientalist master who studied both China and the West called himself a layman, which shows his humility.

This reminds me that when "Touching China" presented the award to Mr. Ji, he repeatedly said "I don't dare to accept it". I was deeply moved by Mr. Ji's unique humility.

Ji Xianlin's book is like a mirror. When you face it, you will always find your own emotional shortcomings. But when you humbly ask for advice, Ji Xianlin on the other side of the mirror will always ask for help. You teach the way of life.