I am anxious to read an article written by Zhang Kangkang, more than 500 words, less than 600 words

Year after year, the pot of epiphany was raised for six whole years, and there was still no movement at all. The thought of looking forward to its blossoming has long been cut off in my heart, and I am hungry and full, and I am left to fend for myself.

Six years later, one summer evening, when I went out on the balcony for the third time, I went to water the holly again, and then bent down to break a yellow leaf for the holly. As I was doing this, a goose-yellow "pom-pom" suddenly "drilled" out of the corner of the holly root and flashed into my sight. I was almost taken aback by that egg-sized ball of pom-poms :

It wasn't a pom-pom, it was a bud – an epiphany bud, true.

I gently moved the pot out of the corner and carried it into the room in a panic and carefully.

It was about six o'clock in the afternoon. It was placed on the coffee table in the room, I looked back at it every few minutes, every time I looked at it, I felt that the bud seemed to be expanding a little bit, and the original taut outer bract became soft and moist, like a girl who was on the stage for the first time, slowly shaking off "her" skirt.

It was getting darker a little. The goose-yellow bud gradually brightened, and it was a crystal clear and transparent pure white. The white is becoming more and more pure, like a thick cloud after a rain, standing in front of you.

At about seven o'clock in the evening, it suddenly shuddered, so strongly that the whole pot of flowers vibrate. In that instant, the closed bud silently cracked open a circular notch, spewing out a rich fragrance. Its stamens are golden yellow and covered with fine particles, and each pollen conveys a warm whisper.

Standing in the deep winter like water, looking at the tall buildings in the distance, high and low.

Volt, staggered, maybe that's an urban planner.

The heart of the heart. And the border towns in the distance, even.

In the village farther afield, the mood seemed heavy, not only for their future, but also for their family.

Is this the predetermined fate and destiny of the marginal?

Zhang Kangkang said that women who read are quiet. Books are like a wall, blocking out all the noise from the outside world, but her eyes can distinguish the slightest sound from the books, and respond with tears. I felt the same way, looking at the book, clicking.

My reading experience is that don't ask about the harvest, because the impact of finger reading on a person is subtle. Enjoy the fun of easy reading, Li Pan was a guest of "Reading Time", Jia Pingwa, Zhang Kangkang and a number of other famous writers are all well-educated readers. Before doing the show, I read their literature; While doing the show, I had the opportunity to read about the writer himself.

This kind of reading is very rewarding and enjoyable for me. In the traditional concept of reading, it is more pertinent, and our reading must acquire this or that knowledge, and our reading used to be very tiring. Nowadays, there is a saying called "happy reading" or "easy reading", choose the reading materials that interest you and fully enjoy the joy of reading.

I prefer a light-hearted way of reading, which is called "happy reading". For modern people, reading is not only a need for study and work, it has become a way of life for people. When you are after work, leaning on the soft sofa, accompanied by a soothing **, holding a book of your beloved, what a pleasant and wonderful thing.

Enjoy the pleasure of easy reading, and it will not lower the taste of reading.

There is a kind of love, it is wordless, it is serious, and it is often impossible to tell it at the time, but Bi Fu Pei, it makes you experience more and more flavor in the days to come, and you can't forget it for a lifetime, it is the broad and boundless father's love. Fatherly love is actually very simple. It's like liquor, spicy and hot, and it's easy to get drunk in it; It's like coffee, bitter and mellow, and it's easy to invigorate; It's like tea, bland and intimate, making people addicted without realizing it.

Father is a big book, and young children often can't read their father, and it is not until they really grow up and reopen this big book at the intersection of ideal and reality, history and today, that they can understand their father's sincere heart.