A very long dream, in a very far place. There is no wind, no sun, no stars and moonlight, only the original broad appearance and desolation. My luggage seemed to have no weight at all. I ran all the way, only to find that I could not escape from this desolation. Looking back, I saw the place where I ran. The desolate wilderness turned into sunshine, flowers, and mountains. Is precisely fairyland paradise. There, I saw many faces, father, mother, grandfather, grandmother, younger brother, younger sister, and some strange faces that never appeared in my life, except myself. I called them, but they didn’t respond at all. I walked towards them, only to find that I was getting farther and farther away from them. It seems that I am not in the same world with them at all. I am helpless, desperate, scared, unable to breathe, and even on the verge of collapse. I can’t hear my voice. When I opened my luggage, I took out a mirror and saw my face in the mirror, which was torn and broken little by little. Finally, it fell to the ground with a sound and broke into a bloody glass, the bright red light flickered, dazzling red. The Earth became more and more desolate, and there came a cry of wolves in the desolation. Lonely, desolate, desperate cry, no reply. I looked at that place again like a paradise. The Sunshine disappeared and changed into a piece of moonlight and a light. Under the light, there was a little boy sitting. That was me. I clearly saw that was me 18 years ago and my mother 18 years ago, she is so beautiful, virtuous and dignified. I can’t hear what she is saying to me now. I can only feel the happiness of that moment by my heart. For a long time, I fell asleep in her arms. She carried me into the room. The light went out and the Moonlight went out. The convenience of that place disappeared. There is only a deep darkness and irresistible fear left. I picked up the brush and tried hard to paint the color of the Earth, mountains and rivers, and the sky on this desolation. Little by little, piece by piece, mountains and rivers and the sky spread in my works. At this moment, I am more like a painter than a creator. I saw the world gradually changing and becoming more and more familiar in my works. Finally, what appeared in front of me was my hometown. A mountain and a water, a grass and a tree, as kind as the hair scattered on the face. It floated up and fell down gently. I walked towards home and met many familiar people, old, young, male and female. I greeted them, they didn’t seem to know me. My home is very busy, it seems that there is something big. I asked an old man in the village. He said: What did Chen’s grandson get married today? I feel very surprised. Isn’t Chen’s grandson just me? Who is the bride? I asked. I don’t know, I haven’t seen anyone. I squeezed into the crowd and saw my father, mother, grandfather, grandmother, many relatives, me and the other me, exactly the same. A groom dress up, smiling. Why is there only bridegroom and bride? I asked people around me. The one with veil beside him is the bride. I was shocked because there was no one around me, only an empty position. I pushed away the crowd and came to my room. The door was locked. I took out the key, but I couldn’t open the door. Suddenly, the door opened from the inside, and I walked into the room, which was exactly what it was. I suddenly saw that the person in the mirror on the desk was not me, but a strange old man, without hair, teeth, empty eyes and no expression. Old like a ghost. I was shocked. How could it be? It wasn’t me. No. I smashed the mirror and escaped from my room. However, everything disappeared. The previous wedding was gone, and the people who attended the wedding were also gone. There was only a kind of desolation after the curtain ended. The prosperity was gone, and people went out for tea. Everything ended without warning or trace. Looking back, I saw my mother’s portrait smiling at me. I also laughed. Suddenly, I felt that the original desolation was approaching gradually, the distant mountains were fading away, the color was fading, the sunshine was darkening, and all the things presented in my works were slowly swallowed by the darkness and turned into nothing. I tried my best to escape, but black from all directions came like ghosts. Despair and fear filled the surrounding air. I couldn’t breathe. I felt my heartbeat accelerating and then becoming weaker. My body is dissipating little by little, and my spirit is slowly collapsing. In an instant, the world collapsed, so did the dream.

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I love eating noodles, and I’m greedy if I don’t eat them for three days. I like it very much, and my mother also knows that I like it. Today, I went home and ate the braised noodles made by my mother, but I couldn’t taste what I used to taste. I couldn’t help thinking of some things in the past and the ridiculous and hateful era. Braised noodles was once my dream. When I was young, the land was very poor, and poor wheat could not grow well. After distributing the poor wheat, my mother grinded it over and over again with stone grinding, sifted it over and over again with sieve, and finally the flour was divided into refined flour, inner flour and Bran flour. The braised noodles made of refined flour are the most delicious. My mother is a master in making braised noodles. Unfortunately, this kind of craft can only show off on festivals or festivals, or if there are guests at home. For example, at that time, there was always a public teacher assigned by the village primary school, and the student’s home was responsible for cooking. When it was my turn to cook, my mother was very careful. One was for her own children, and the other was for the teacher to give more food stamps (this was what my mother told me later, is it too shameful?). My mother didn’t need any utensils to measure the noodles, and it was done as soon as she punched her eyes. After the noodles were made up, they were rubbed over and over again. The strength was great, and even the panels were creaking. Father said, don’t compensate a panel for eating noodles. Mother straightened her waist and said, eating noodles can make a person’s conscience, and it is soft and bulging, which means that the rolling pin is dishonest. There is no space in the noodles, the dried noodles can be strong, and the noodles can be slippery when they are eaten in the mouth. For braised noodles, noodles are the key, while braised noodles are the key. At that time, everything was expensive, even there was not much firewood burnt under the stove. But in order to make the most delicious bittern for the teacher, mother took out the pine needles that she was not willing to burn at ordinary times. This thing was so hot that it could boil the oil pan. When the oil in the pan made out cigarettes, my mother threw the chopped green onion and ginger into the pan and burst into a strong fragrance immediately, the villagers call it spray incense, which makes my brother and sister slobber. My mother poured a small ladle of water into it, and the pot was still creaking, and the scent of scallion was permeated in the air. After the water boiled, my mother poured the beaten eggs into the boiling water. Soon the yellow and white eggs and flowers floated, which made my brother and sister swallow their saliva. Sometimes, with more than a dozen pieces of pork cooked, it is more fragrant. Before coming out of the pot, my mother sprinkled a pinch of caraway again. The incense went straight to your nose. My mother always used the biggest bowl in the House to serve the teacher noodles, saying that if the noodles were served more, the marinated seeds could be put much longer, so that the teacher could eat well and you could learn well. The hateful thing is that if the teacher eats delicious food, I will be miserable. Every time the teacher came home for dinner and listened to the teacher drinking braised noodles in the next room, I thought that I would be a teacher and drink his three bowls in the future. One of my classmates is worse than me. His family always sends meals to the teacher’s office. Once, he was walking cautiously with the plate. A gust of wind came, and the food on the plate came out with strong fragrance. He couldn’t help swallowing saliva. He looked a little absent-minded. He accidentally stumbled and burst, A plate of food was lifted on the road. Alas, that ridiculous and hateful era. Sometimes, when the noodles were cooked too much, my mother added a large spoon of water to the rest, boiled it again, put some chopped cabbage leaves, and scooped up a large bowl for our brother and sister. I said, mom, do you want us to take off our trousers and fish them in the bowl? Mother smiled bitterly. If you can get what you want, be content. If your father hasn’t got what you want. Later, after the reform, the land seemed to be liberated. The wheat went crazy, and the output turned upside down. The happiest thing was my mother, who always hung happy flowers on her face: I didn’t expect to catch up with such an era, drinking noodles every day without worrying. My mother knows that I love eating noodles. Every weekend when I go home, I will surely find that my mother has already prepared for eating noodles at noon. Restaurants in the city always like to attract customers with authentic hand rolling noodles, but unfortunately, I have been eating outside for many years, but I have never tasted the smell of braised noodles made by my mother. Sometimes, I couldn’t help myself at home and tried to cook it by myself, but no matter how I did it, I couldn’t eat the smell of my mother’s braised noodles. Later, mother’s braised noodles became less and less delicious. My mother shed tears many times and sighed, “Oh, I’m old, I can’t adjust it, I can’t roll it, and I can’t adjust the smell. Once, when I didn’t go home for something, my mother called to say that the noodles had been prepared, why didn’t I come home? I heard my mother say before hanging up the phone: does my son dislike the noodles I cook? I felt sad in my heart. Today, although my mother rolled noodles with a noodle machine, I still ate three bowls. Looking up, I found my mother was holding a job and looking at me blankly: is it delicious? Delicious, so delicious, Mom, I like to eat noodles at home. Mother’s dull face burst into a bright smile.

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I don’t know how many people will pass by in one’s life, like or dislike. Maybe the right person who belonged to him had already come, but he left quietly like all the strangers, leaving no trace. In the end, even myself will forget that I once had such a moment.

Today, I was mistaken by someone. It happened that I almost admitted that person as someone else. The quiet eyes and face, when I turned my head, were facing him with four eyes, and there was a blank in my head. It was also quiet instantly in this noisy canteen. The world seems to become a piece of white, only white, quiet White. There are only people opposite in this white. The strange person with the familiar feeling turned into a storm in his heart. He was so like you that I even thought he was you at that moment. I just stared at it.

Sorry, I admit the wrong person.

Then the world returned to normal. But when the soul returns, I think the I am so ugly now, but you can emit soft fluorescence. Now the I am is so ugly, without flawless faces, elegant long hair and confident smiles.

Some people say that only when you look back 500 times in your previous life can you pass. So what is the story of such a passing in the previous life?

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