The little girl died, but with a smile on her lips. The eldest Chinese New Year's Eve was the time when the family gathered together, but a poor little girl froze to death on the street, and no one knew the beautiful scene she saw at the last moment of her life.
I wonder if anyone remembers the cute-looking Little Girl Who Reads Matchmaking?
On Christmas Night, a little girl who sold matches did not sell a single match, she was hungry and cold, and in a trance polished the first match, and she saw the fragrant roast goose. After polishing the second match, she saw the beautiful Christmas tree. After polishing the third match, she saw her long-dead grandmother, the only one who loved her.
The little girl wanted to let Grandma stay with her, and even begged Grandma to take her away, and finally she polished a whole handful of matches, and the little girl died tragically on Christmas Eve, with a smile.
In October 1845, with Christmas looming, Andersen visited Italy again.
In Gloucestern, banners reading "Welcome to Mr. Andersen" hung along the road, and bookstores were filled with Hans Christian Andersen's fairy tales. However, at the end of the street, Hans Christian Andersen saw a little girl of about five years old selling matches, and her hands were frozen.
At this time, it was nightfall, but the little girl's matches had not been sold, so she was still trembling and shouting in the wind and snow. Tears blurred Andersen's eyes, and he went back to write this depressing "Little Girl Selling Matches."
Although "The Little Girl Who Sold Matches" is a fairy tale written by Hans Christian Andersen, it is a real thing he has seen with his own eyes, so it will be sad to read every time.
It was freezing cold, it was snowing, it was getting dark again, and it was the last day of the year—the big Chinese New Year's Eve. On this cold and dark night, a well-behaved little girl walked barefoot down the street. She came out of the house wearing a pair of slippers, but what's the use?
It was a pair of big slippers—so big that they had always been worn by her mother. As she crossed the road, two carriages rushed over, frightening her into running away from her shoes. One could not find anything, and the other told a boy to pick it up and run away, saying that in the future he would have a child and could use it as a cradle.
The little girl had to walk barefoot, a pair of small feet frozen red and green. She carried many matches in her old apron and one in her hand. Throughout the day, no one had bought her a match, and no one had ever given her a penny.
Poor little girl! She was cold and hungry, and walked forward in a hurry. Snowflakes fell on her long, golden hair, which was curled up over her shoulders and looked beautiful, but she didn't notice it. There was a light in every window, and there was a smell of roast goose wafting down the street, because it was a big Chinese New Year's Eve—she couldn't forget it.
She sat down in the corner of a house, curled up on her legs. She felt even colder, and she didn't dare to go home, because she hadn't sold a match, she hadn't made a single buck, and Daddy would have beaten her. Besides, the house is as cold as the street. They had only a roof over their heads, and although the biggest crack had been blocked with grass and rags, the wind could still pour in.
One of her small hands was almost frozen. Ah, even a small match is good for her! Did she dare to draw one of the matches from the pile and burn it on the wall to warm her little hands? She finally pulled out one. Whew! The matches are lit and the flames are coming out! She put her little hands together in the flames, how warm and bright the flames were, almost like a little candle.
It was a strange fire! The little girl felt as if she were sitting in front of a big stove with shiny copper feet and copper handles, burning vigorously and warmly, how comfortable! Hey, what's going on? She had just put her foot out to warm it up, and the match was extinguished, the stove was gone, and she was sitting there with only a burned matchstick in her hand.
She wiped another one. The matches lit up and shone brightly. The light fell on the wall, which suddenly became as transparent as tulle, and she could see all the way to the house, the table was covered with snow-white tablecloths, delicate plates and bowls, and the roast goose, whose stomach was filled with apples and plums, was bubbling with aroma.
Even better, the goose jumped off the plate, with a knife and fork in its back, and staggered across the floor, all the way to the poor little girl. By this time, the matches were extinguished, and there was only a thick and cold wall in front of her.
She rubbed another match, and this time she sat under the beautiful Christmas tree. The Christmas tree, larger and more beautiful than she had seen through the glass doors of wealthy merchants last Christmas, with thousands of dangling candles lit on emerald branches, and many beautiful colored pictures, like one hanging in a shop window, were blinking at her. The little girl held out her hand to the picture, and at this time the match was extinguished again, and a star fell, drawing a slender red light in the sky.
"There is a man who is dying," said the little girl, the only thing that hurt her grandmother when she was alive told her: "When a star falls, a soul will go to God." She rubbed another match on the wall, and this time, the match illuminated the surroundings, and Grandma appeared in the light, so gentle, so loving.
"Grandma!" The little girl cried out, "Ah! Please take me away! I know that as soon as the matches are extinguished, you will disappear, like the warm stove, the fragrant roast goose, the beautiful Christmas tree, you will disappear! ”
She quickly wiped a large handful of matches to keep Grandma. A large handful of matches emitted a strong light, shining as brightly as daytime. Grandma had never been so tall and beautiful as she was now. Grandma picked up the little girl and took her in her arms. They flew away in light and joy, higher and higher, to a place where there was no cold, no hunger, no pain.
The next morning, the little girl sat in the corner, her cheeks flushed and her mouth smiling. She died, frozen to death in the old Chinese New Year's Eve. The New Year's sun rose and shone on her tiny corpse. The little girl sat there, holding a handful of burned matchsticks in her hand.
"She wants to warm herself up..." People said, and no one knew how beautiful things she had seen before she died, how happy she had been, and followed her grandmother to the happiness of the New Year.