In the love of youth, one ice cream is enough-2

11
/October 2021

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On the window of the subway, I saw a face as decadent and pale as a flower. 

In the gallop of darkness, I feel the slight dizziness of life flying by. 

The earliest trip was to Huangshan when I was 17 years old. 

It is a hot day to change to a long-distance bus in Hangzhou. 

There is a flood in Anhui, where cars drive by, you can see many submerged rice paddies. 

It took a full six hours to drive. 

I saw the girl sleep with her face on the palm of her boyfriend's hand. 

A face is brimming with a peaceful happiness. 

I also remember trying to resist drowsiness, reminding myself not to put my head on the shoulder of the man around me. 

Along the way, I saw the carcasses of pigs soaked in the river and the worried faces of farmers. 

I'm impressed. 

The night I spent in Huangshan, the bed was wet. I wrapped my raincoat around me and heard the night wind and the roar of pine waves. 

Get up early in the morning to watch the sunrise. 

It's too cold on the top of the mountain in the morning. 

A man from Qinghai gave me the cotton-padded coat he borrowed. 

'you have to let yourself watch the sunrise once a year to make your life feel the beauty of nature,' he said. 

The high cliffs are covered with rusty lover locks. 

On a rock, someone carved "I will always love you" with a knife.

But how to face the vicissitudes of nature because of the fragility and complexity of human nature? 

There are no vows. 

Only touched for a moment. 

At that time, I thought that if my loved ones and I would go to Huangshan, I would not hang a lock. 

No matter how far the key is thrown, parting is still in the palm of fate. 

I just want to stand by him quietly and watch the clouds fly and fall. 

Until dusk. 

Thank him for sharing this moment. 

A moment is enough. 

Life is hard. 

The impermanence of love. 

The grandeur of nature. 

The northernmost place I have been to in Beijing. 

My father gave me three thousand yuan and said it was time for you to visit the capital of your country. 

I was 22 years old and was about to graduate. 

Go with my best friend Joe. 

She is lovelorn, thinking of distant places to try to forget. 

We bought berth tickets and took the train for almost two days. 

I woke up late at night and the train stopped. 

I saw the Nanjing sign on the brightly lit platform. 

There was a sudden silence in my heart at that time. 

A very fateful feeling. 

I think I will go to that city in the future. 

I went to Nanjing later, and I liked its quiet atmosphere. 

Even the trees on both sides of the street are clear and simple. 

When he was a teenager, there was a Nanjing boy in the class. He was thin and good at maths. His eyes were bent when he laughed. 

Usually come to tease me, make me cry, and then make me happy. 

When I graduated from junior high school, the class organized a movie. 

He waited for me to go home. 

The two men foolishly rode the bus around the city. 

Remember the dusk grayish purple sky, there is a bright red sunset. 

He told me that he would go back to Nanjing in the future. 

Joe said he would live a strong life when he got back. 

But on the express from Beijing to Shanghai, she began to miss him. 

But what if you don't come back? 

I sometimes think. 

No emotion cannot be replaced. 

Once there was a girl from the south who went to the far north to forget someone. 

The north seems to be a place of relief in the heart. 

You can unload the past and start all over again. 

I haven't been further north since. 

That is a sad melody. 

You can hum to yourself softly in your heart. 

Then I lost touch with Joe. 

I'm used to parting. 

Maybe my heart has long been silent. 

Southern cities are gray and damp in winter. 

Unexpected heavy snow, lonely after a night. 

Go to bed early in the evening, sleep makes me feel safe and happy. 

There is also the silence of insomnia late at night, try to read again. 

Keep drinking water. 

Listen to the music. 

Memories. 

When I read an old book I bought before, it was a novel written by a poet. 

She watched the sunset. 

The train passed the bridge, and the river under the bridge was a wisp of gold. 

She thought that nature is the most expensive compensation for tourists. 

Drifting makes people feel the temperature of the sun at any time. 

The author disappeared after writing three novels without any words. 

And I cleaned out her dilapidated books on the bookstore's half-fold bookshelf. 

The voices of some beautiful souls are lonely, but they will still be heard.