¡°The sound of Wu - Piao Tianwen - floated leisurely into his dreamland, moistening his memory forever.
He stared blankly at the bright full moon on the treetops outside, which gradually became hazy with his blurred eyes.
However, Yanzi¡¯s chapped hands gradually became clear in his memory, making him feel heartfelt pain. Those hands, when he was at his weakest, once rested on his frail shoulders, helping him hold up a piece of his own sky; those hands, on the mountain road when he left his hometown in despair, waved in the distance countless times, giving him a The deepest concern; those hands gave his family the greatest comfort when he left home!
As late autumn approaches, I wonder if the walnut trees she worked so hard to plant have also withered and fallen leaves. Only the dark branches are left, helplessly scattered on the ground with the cold autumn wind. On the withered and lonely mountain, is there still that familiar figure looking happily at the saplings all over the mountain, with a happy smile on his face?
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Whenever he thinks of these things, Fugui's eyes will always be filled with tears of distress, and the longing will keep him awake all night.
He caressed Yanzi¡¯s photo affectionately, and Yanzi¡¯s smile was still so gentle. He pressed the photo of Yanzi tightly to his face, and he seemed to be able to feel her hair flowing in the wind, and each strand passed through his sad heart. Those memories that were difficult to let go were like huge Zhuji, strung up by her long hair, swayed in the wind.
The moonlight is still there, the people are still there, but that familiar voice is missing. Once upon a time, that voice rang in his ears, a kind call, constantly beating his mind, keeping him awake all night.
The rustle of dead leaves falling to the ground came from outside the window. Fugui sighed, the fallen leaves in his hometown are not sad at all. Now the fallen leaves in a foreign land are just countless regrets. In the bottom of his heart, the occasional thoughts and comforts are facing this. Silent destruction.
He listened to the sweet snoring of his comrades. He really didn¡¯t know if their young hearts had too many heavy concerns like his. Would their thoughts at the moment also wander in their distant hometown?
Dawn in the lower bunk made a few sleepy sounds, maybe he was chewing on the past at the moment. Fugui looked at his sleeping face, and a feeling came from his heart. Since he recovered and returned to the army, he is still the familiar goshawk. From him, Fugui has a new interpretation of life: Although life is fragile, but When a person's will exceeds the threat of death, then this life is no longer fragile. Perhaps what people lack is a persistent yearning for life!