The last night is about to pass, the first rays of the new year's sunshine has begun, all things are rising, the bullet command room, 2021 white colt gap, 2022 quietly arrived.
The Communist Party of China has trekked for a hundred years and will eventually become a monument of merit in 2021; the first flight of "Tianwen-1" has won, and the "Zhurong" has walked calmly; 6 Chinese people live in space, and the dream of chasing the sky has become a reality. The rainstorm in Henan has faded, the myth of Internet celebrities has accelerated its fall, and the idols have lost their qualifications; we have witnessed the awakening of women's consciousness and the reunion of orphaned families... The power of the platform has never been so vast, the voice of the media has never been so turbulent, and the charm of the individual has never been so brilliant.
Things turn to the stars, the world is floating and sinking, the media is bustling, not all for profit, the media is crowded, not all are profitable, for the famous to give the name, the private to give profit, the grower to give the force, the brilliant galaxy, and finally become the universe, the pen is like a peak, building a sweat and green.
Life is the best platform, life is the best giant pen. Whether it is sad and happy, or sour, sweet and bitter, it is the taste of life, it is the spring and autumn of the pen, losing feelings, life is less color, there is no growth, and life loses its temperature. Although a pen is weak, it can uphold the cultural bloodline, and although it is small, it can also shine with humanity. A paragraph of text is difficult to distinguish between good and bad, and it is worthy of heaven and earth to write; whether a short article succeeds or fails, it is written with its own light.
A dream of the Red Chamber, the light of a hundred years ago illuminated the world, illuminated the East, made people marvel, gave people guidance; the Continuation of the Red Chamber, the dream a hundred years later washed the soul, the origin of the platform, people fascinated, nourished. On this road, strangers watch over each other, making light for the discouraged and salt for the tasteless. In this dream, the weak hold up their chests, and the fearful no longer wander. A short essay that allows the frustrated to regain confidence; a long word that gives the mourners a hug; a media that makes love no longer lonely, makes family affection no longer indifferent, makes the soul no longer lonely, lets the years no longer vicissitudes, the tired sink into a good sleep, and the homeless silently have something to rely on.
Every night, the stars are full of stars, alone, lying under the lamp, enjoying the great beauty of words, flying against the wind in the sky, smearing a colorful color for life, adding a bright color to life, not slow, not abandoning, such as the singing pedal, like the eagle in the sky, accumulating strength in the dull, soaring at the place of power.
Every dawn, the morning light rises, blends into the sea of people, walks in the years, talks with words, dialogues with the soul, is born to the sun, walks toward the light, every moment, it is Ruixue who washes away the dust; every time it is touched, it is the wind that blows away the yin; every ray of sunshine is bathed in and warm sunshine; every time it stops, it listens to the growth of all things. Time makes sweet wine, years converge into torrents, strivers work tirelessly, and cultural people sing and walk. Those layers of words, in the same vein, with dreams as horses, are all striving upward postures, and they are all a clean soul.
Hunting wind rises, the arrow of time can not be reversed, the world never lingers on the past, those ears ringing cracking sound, just like the thunder in the depths of low wandering time, we have stood at the intersection of the great era that has not been seen in a hundred years, whether willing or unwilling, willing or unwilling, we must sweep the years out of the new riverbed and engrave a new direction. The text is warm, the Red Chamber is always classic; with the pen as the sword, the vertical and horizontal, the beautiful text will eventually be refined into a classic; with the text as a living, the large pen is freehand, and the youth must live up to Shaohua. Believe it or not, the compass will be engraved with a mark, and will eventually gather thousands of millets into a torrent and merge into the vast sea; whether it is successful or not, the soul after nirvana will eventually sublimate from pessimism to daguan and become an immortal green mountain.
There is no regret in the fall, the season is like a stream, the force penetrates the back of the paper, the continuation of the red chamber, although tens of millions of people, I am going to die!
Author: Xiao Han, graduated from Nanjing University of Political Science, creator of long novels, creator of self-media, has published more than 300 papers and articles in People's Daily and Journal of Political Engineering.