After a night of strong winds, the light rain dripped down all morning, falling from the warmth of early summer to the cold of early spring. The second treasure of the online class at home wants to take the exam online, and I am ordered by the school to proctor the exam.
In the quiet of the room, with the sound of the tip of the pen brushing across the paper, I turned over the pages of the book in my hand. Follow Mr. Feng Jicai back to his hometown of Ningbo for the first time, feel the nostalgia of the hometown, and come to the old street of the Latin Quarter of Paris to taste coffee and listen to stories. The time of spring, summer, autumn and winter flows between the fingers, and the grand scenery of ancient and modern China and foreign countries rotates in front of the eyes.
It was as if he saw the sick crooked child happily kicking the tin can with his little friend, and the sound of the jingle bell was accompanied by crisp laughter; it seemed that he could feel the infinite attachment of the sick teenager to his mother. When you understand that there is no book, the best way is to write it yourself; after reading a story without an ending, you can make it up yourself.
Unconsciously, half a day passed, the handmaiden and the dog made a mess after handing in the roll, the aroma of food wafted in the kitchen, and I also returned to the human world.