Shangcheng county love has the title and subheading of the essay

A shooting star broke through the night sky, that is the traces of my growth in the wind and rain ...... -- inscription

In the wind and rain in the sense

Far away, the red sun landing, birds return to their nests. Occasionally from the bushes came the "chirping" sound, in this pleasant holiday, I followed my father to the field.

The sunlight near the sun, reflecting the red figure of my father, seems to show the splendor of the farmers. See his left hand holding the plow, his right hand raised cattle whip, cattle do not listen to the call, but the father in the hands of the whip but not to whip the stubborn cattle. Maybe this is a kind of affection, although between man and animal. Thinking of my father every day just wandering within a few kilometers of this circle, drawing a circle, only know in the hardship in the enjoyment, in the poverty in the enjoyment, never have the sadness of the sadness of the end of the sadness of the sadness of the end of the sadness of the sadness of the end of the sadness of the sadness of the sadness of the end of the sadness of the sadness of the sadness of the end of the sadness of the sadness of the sadness of the end of the sadness, only know to bear everything silently, which may be the nature of the farmers, to life is not harsh, to the society is not picky. This is the nature of the farmer, not demanding life, not picky about society. As he said to me at that time, the words of instruction, forever resonating in my ears.

When I think of this, I can't help but see my eyes rising, and the work in my hands speeds up.

Growing up in the storm

The sky, cold. The moon is full. The lights are out and the stars are shining.

In the quiet of the night, I sat with my mother in the faint light