I don’t know how to read my article for other people. I just know that in the current environment, the release of this article is no less than an earthquake in the youth literary world. By my standards, there are no teenagers in the literary world. In short, it's just a group of adults who don't understand anything fooling around with the children. Just like the animation and comics industry in the future, groups of old antiques who don't understand anything pretend to understand.
After dinner one day, Yafeng was about to go home, and I handed two small books with short stories to her.
"what?"
"You take the little things you wrote when you're bored, take a look, and come to me when you are optimistic."
Yafeng turned a few pages and immediately put the notepad into his schoolbag.
"How did you write such an interesting thing?"
"Don't you often tell me about school things?" I didn't have the heart to tell her the end of the story, just pretending to be relaxed with my right hand: "I can't do anything anyway, so I just write something."
"Really? Then I'll go home and watch."
Yafeng left after speaking. Looking at her back, I smiled badly. With the strength that she has shown so far, the little girl must come to me with red eyes within three days.
The most important thing to save Yafeng is to let her stay by my side on the day of the accident. I admit that this is a bit impractical, but in my current situation, this may be the only way to save her.
And to be able to control her to stay by my side, all I have to do is to gain her absolute trust, and I have to do everything from any aspect.
There are still four months to go, whether it is long or short. If I remember correctly, Yafeng happened on January 7, 1990. Taking out a stack of manuscript paper, I began to recall the plots and paragraphs of the novels I had written before, but I couldn't forget the food.
My abnormality also caused my mother's suspicion, but it was prevaricated by me on the grounds of reviewing my homework.
My mother is an elementary school teacher, and I entered the elementary school at the age of four. My homework has always been a good mess. My mother believed me when I said this, so I started a long memory under the cover of review. .
Soon I realized that my power over memory was far beyond my imagination. When I recalled the worldview of a novel I wrote in high school, I was finally sure that people after rebirth had surprisingly good memories. Looking at the worldview densely written on the manuscript paper at hand, I was in a daze, and this worldview is really gorgeous and tight. I didn't expect that I also had the talent of Mizuno Ryo.
In the evening of the third day, as I thought, Yafeng appeared at the door of my room.
"Why let Shan Qing die?"
"Don't you think it is perfect if there are shortcomings?"
"Is it perfect if I have a flaw?"
"What do you think about me?"
"Poor, it's very poor and bad now!"
"Whether it is poor or bad, how do you say this story should be written?"
Yafeng was silent, and I thought to my heart to fight with me even at your age? Haven't been obediently being brainwashed by me.
"The writing is very good, but Xiao Liu, how did you come up with this story?"
"Isn't there such a story in the story of elementary school students the other day? I just wrote my thoughts."
I waved the story of the elementary school student in my hand. I found the cannon fodder long ago. At first glance, it was a weird thing from the old school. Yafeng read the article in the elementary school student story and threw it aside at the first moment he put it down. Paper basket.
"It's better you wrote it."
"That's all right, you take it and cast it."
"Vote for the primary school student story?"
"Why do you vote for it? Don’t our province have a magazine called Nanfang Weekly? I have already thought of the pen name for it, passerby." I wrote these three words on the paper, and Sister Yafeng just read it. Understand what this means.
"This name is a homophone of your name, right."
"Well, I'm poor, right."
"hate."
I said it was disgusting, but it was actually very fast. After half a month, I saw my story in this magazine called Weekly, which is actually a monthly magazine. I made an introductory part of my article, and I smirked when I watched his compliments. It's not easy to overturn and oversaw you, the pure literary youths of the 1980s, at my current level.