The days are too dull, without ups and downs, just like a spring pool, not surprised but not billow…. Every day, repeating the same life and rhythm, single cycle, how many telepathy and inspiration can there be? I like to have tea after breakfast, and my facial expression is condensed in the cup. The slender leaves of Longjing dance away in the water and gather at the bottom of the cup.. Put down your eyelids and curl up in the hot air, with the faint fragrance of tea coming gradually, soaking your heart and spleen.. Open the window curtain, thin sunshine sprinkled into the study from the window and silently printed the pattern of the fence on the clean white wall. Looking up out of the window, the sky is boundless and the distant mountains cut off the gray sky.. The mountains are steadily facing the sky. The mountains are full of green and thorny weeds. They can neither see its withering nor its grand splendor.. The stream in the mountain stream is hidden in the jungle and whispers, while the wild goose flying south from the mountain top eagerly conveys the smell of spring.. Since I was a child, I have formed the habit of reading books, and managing bookcases has become an indispensable part of my life, just as I like to tidy up my own wardrobe.. The player plays the music of the pipa trio, which is fresh and sweet and takes care of the gap between bookcases, so he appreciates his own collection of books.. From classical to modern times, from novels to prose, from poetry to essays. Lu Xun, Qian Zhongshu, Lao She, Ba Jin, Zhang Henshui, from San Mao to Xi Mu Rong to Wang Xiaohui, are all book fairies in my heart. A set of clothes dressed me up and gave me a beautiful and shiny appearance. And a book that shakes the soul opens the window of the soul for me, embellishes the state of mind and moistens the soul.. From the innocence and disillusionment of love, from the sincerity of friendship to the betrayal of human nature; From women’s fate to men’s self – esteem; From Peacock Flying Southeast to the Solemn and Stirring of Trojan War. Books hide in my heart, and chapters make me palpitate. From China’s participation in White Deer Plain Regulations to the participation of Boccaccio in the decameron Bill in the Middle Ages, from participation in the silent spring regulations to participation in the Third Wave Regulations. Reading Zhang Ailing is bound to read Hu Lancheng and reading Xiao Hong is bound to read Xiao Jun.. Two talented women from the Republic of China with similar family background, one abandoned by the family and the other voluntarily fleeing from the family. Neither of them is immune from the profound experience of rushing about for a living and living on paper.. But Hu Lancheng and Xiao Jun, two romantic wit, are lucky to have important seats in the lives of these two women respectively. After reading Xiao Hong’s life experience and the desert of childhood life, I found my own childhood feelings and shadow, and let me experience the indifference and ruthlessness of the family I once had.. Reading the story of Xiao Hong and his grandfather, and evoking my memories of the good days when I was a child with my grandfather, and my deep feelings with my grandfather became a lingering worry to my grandfather in my life.. Stories twine in the heart and turn into ripples in the heart.. Cloth wipes away the grey tip of the writing. What lingers on is the people and things in the book, the gods and the rhymes, which are like shallow and deep traces left in my heart.. Women who love books are happy. She can approach the writer’s mind, have a heart-to-heart communication with the writer, and get the most beautiful telepathy in the world.. Women who love reading are emotional. Women, there is always a book hidden in your memory. In the book, there is always a plot that overlaps with you. In the plot, there is always a passage that becomes a beacon in your heart. There is always a person standing beside you and interpreting a story in the book with you.. Want to base the text, but must not moan without disease. I repeated the same plot as yesterday, telling my diary without much change.. March 9, 2015