I need an excerpt from the best 400 words to write about

Who is drunk with maple wood.

Last night's autumn rain wet my eyes, quietly watching people come and go, green leaves and red leaves, tireless heart, cruising in the forest of red maples. In the previous life, for the encounter in this life, I didn't want to cross the Nai He Bridge, I didn't want to drink Meng Po soup, turned into a drop of dew, hung among the maple leaves, soaked in the maple leaves, accompanied it to be lonely, and burned with it. And let the flame of that tree turn into a zither, let my three thousand green silk for the strings, in such a silent dawn, for you, play a song softly, red maple is the flame beating in the dark night, green silk is the mark of the previous life, you are the unforgettable life.

Only you can understand the sound of the kite, because I was not drunk last night, it was the splendor of the trees that woke up the dream that had been sleeping for thousands of years, and when I woke up, I still couldn't grasp the waiting love, and I couldn't see the moment of love.

In such a gorgeous background, if you have not come, this bustling eyes, this beating flame, this gaze can only leave emptiness and loneliness. Don't ask about the past life, don't ask about the next life, think more, just get drunk in the quiet dawn, with your attention and tacit understanding as always, smooth out the vicissitudes of my life, wipe away the sorrow of my dark night, let me feel the quiet beauty and delicacy of a maple leaf, the crystal and purity of a drop of dewdrop, and the tenderness and yearning of a wisp of breeze. Think more, just float in the maple forest in full swing, looking forward to the sound of your horses' hooves to break the coldness of the dawn, I burn with the maple leaves, sprinkle a red acacia, piece by piece scattered your bag, bit by bit, strung into this life without regrets.

A little intoxication, a little obsession, in the frost forest of late autumn, are you flying or perching? Can you hear the distant and pure sound of the kite, can you see the flames of the trees, the burning outpouring of the trees? I hold the lost tears of the previous life, the dew of this life, wash away the dust of your many years, wash away the vicissitudes of your past life and the fatigue of this life, are you tired?

No matter when, I will wait quietly in the frost forest of dawn, here is your eternal station, facing the mountains and flowing water, facing the thick soil and the yellow sky, remembering the beauty of life, about a thousand years.

I don't know who is singing in the quiet and quiet: In the chaotic world, except for you, everything is prosperous, this scene is performed with life, it is rare to have this agreement, this relationship is only meaningful to you and me. In the frost forest of dawn and mist, if you don't remember, if I haven't been here, only, prosperous like smoke, a dream like a butterfly, gently falling in the background, falling outside the red dust.

And I stubbornly sang in a classical way, stroking the zither and singing low, settling the autumn wind and fog, and getting drunk with the dawn maple leaves, but, just, the maple forest carrying the acacia is getting thinner and thinner, and I am thinner than the maple forest.

At dawn, the fog was thick and the frost was heavy. The whole maple forest is as red as a drunk, drunk bright red, drunk almost transparent. In the past life and this life, I only wish to be the reddest maple leaf on the branch, igniting the fire of your life and illuminating the path of reincarnation for thousands of years.

A stupid thing. When I was a child, I saw my mother go out early and return late every day, and I thought: Mom is so hard every day, why don't you help Mom peel an apple!

I pulled out an apple and a knife. Then, I carefully peeled the apple. After laughing, I cut it into pieces again and put them in a bowl.

I just wanted to serve it to my mother, and then I remembered the scene when my mother was cooking, and every time my mother cooked, she would always put some condiments. So, I also followed my mother's example and put sesame oil, sugar, monosodium glutamate and other condiments in the apples.

After doing all this, I respectfully brought it to my mother and gave it to her. When my mother saw it, she smiled and said, "My son has grown up and will be filial to his mother!"

I listened, triumphant. But as soon as my mother took a bite, she asked, "Why does the apple smell strange?"

It's my masterpiece! I proudly say, "I've put all sorts of condiments in it!" When my mother heard this, she was astonished and said:

Silly boy, how can you put condiments in apples? When I heard this, I suddenly realized, and my face turned red.

Through this incident, I learned a truth: think twice before doing things, otherwise it is easy to make mistakes.