In the Depth of Time (8 compilations)

In the Depth of Time (1)

When I went out to play on National Day, my grandmother and I walked side by side. When I turned around, I found that I was a little taller than my grandmother. I rubbed my eyes and confirmed again. Really, I am taller than Grandma. I grew up and my grandmother grew old.

Grandma is a kind old man who is about to become an octogenarian. The green silk is no longer there. The root of the hair is silver, half hidden, half hidden. Wrinkles covered the forehead, slightly sunken eyes, a pair of dark brown eyes, silently told the vicissitudes of the years.

In my memory, Grandma has always been tall, because she has paid too much for me. Every day, when the morning light is showing, I am still immersed in a dream. It is the smell of my grandmother's carefully cooked breakfast that wakes up the dawn; Every day, when the rosy clouds are all over the sky, it is Grandma who picks me up and returns home and finally cuts off the dusk; Every year when the cold winter is coming, Grandma is busy knitting sweaters for me. Whenever I wear them, I feel warm, because every stitch on the sweater is condensed with Grandma's deep love for me.

Grandma is like a top, she never stops rotating around me.

Once, at about two o'clock in the morning, I suddenly had a high fever. After taking antipyretic drugs, the fever still did not subside. Grandma decided to take a taxi to the hospital. But on the street in the middle of the night, let alone a taxi, it is an ordinary private car, and it is only occasionally seen. Grandma and Grandpa took turns carrying me to the hospital. When she arrived at the hospital, her frail grandmother was already sweating heavily. Lying on my grandma's back, my eyes could not help moistening.

White clouds, grey dogs, snap at the moment, the horseshoes of time come to the amorous feelings of fleeting time. In a twinkling of an eye, I was already a junior high school student, and I had transformed into a little man full of pride. Grandma is also old and can't carry me any more. Sometimes she will pant when carrying several heavy plastic bags upstairs. Looking at Grandma's bent back, I silently made a promise to myself: Grandma, I must hold your hand to witness the miracle in my life!

Thank you for every day of your life, my dear grandma! Thank you for making my memory beautiful and warm!

In the Depth of Time (2)

The spring rain makes camellia red, wheat sprouts green, and the lake is empty. The wormwood leaves on the lakeshore are cast into a tender green, emitting elegant fragrance, which reminds us of the childhood memories.

When I was young, I followed my grandmother and walked towards the green on the lake bank. Walking through the spring and the reeds. The high hanging fishing net is covered with morning dew, reflecting the fine light.

Grandma bent down and buried herself in the mugwort green. The slightly raised right arm brushed the top of the shoot and picked the yellowed shoots of wormwood. Her head drooped, her lips parted, her voice murmured. Under the pale blue sky, it is like a sacred sacrifice. I took off the tip of a leaf of wormwood and put it into my mouth like my grandmother. The cold taste was tinged with bitterness, while the aftertaste was tinged with sweetness. Looking up, Grandma took a few more steps, and I hurried to catch up, letting Ai Jian's dew wet his clothes.

I went back to the old house along the field path.

Everything is as old as before. On the south wall, there are old calamus and moxa sticks above the lintel made of branches and wood. Arriving at the stone mill in the corner, a layer of light floating dust engraved the ruthlessness of time. I seemed to hear the sound of the stone mill turning again. In front of me was the figure of Grandma grinding her face, just like in the past.

"Grind it slowly. The powder is fine and even." Grandma held the grinding crutches in her hands and stepped on the grinding track around the stone mill step by step and circle by circle. Every time the stone mill rotates, I lift my tiptoe and add a small scoop of broken rice to the grinding hole to see it slowly sinking. The stone mill pushed round and round, and white and fine rice flour fell all over the mill plate. I also stood up and tried to push the stone mill, but did not move. I was so worried that my forehead was sweating. Grandma touched my head and said, "Don't worry, dear girl. When I grow up, I can push it." I had to go to see Grandma making moxa cakes. The wormwood leaves with drops of water and white rice flour blend and collide to form balls, gently press into different cakes, paste them on the mud stove, and finally sublimate in the fire. When the stove is opened again, the hot air carries the fragrance of the wormwood, and the noodles are sweet, floating all over the village and rippling. My grandma and I were laughing and holding the moxa cake.

I walked to the stone mill, bent down like my grandma, and slowly pushed up the mill. Half a circle, he ran into the iron black wall. There is no white rice flour in the grinding plate, only floating dust. "Grandma, I can move the millstone. Where are you?" "My darling..." I suddenly turned back and saw the curtain at the entrance of the house was blown up by the wind. It turned out that there was only wind in my ears.

I thought that time would erase everything and the past would drift away with the wind. But in fact, time is the best winemaker. One sip of wine will bring tears to my eyes. Through the tears, I saw Grandma leaning against the door, smiling toward me. Originally, you are in the depth of time, silently accompany, never leave.

Turning around again, I looked at the stone mill for the last time. Grandma's words seemed to ring in my ears again: "Mill, slowly push..." I paused and stepped out of the wooden door. "Grandma, I will keep going with your faith."

Looking up at the sky, just like the once pale blue, it has never changed.

In the Depth of Time (3)

In my spare time, I am used to sitting alone in the study, listening to a song, reading a book carefully, or combing the past slowly... In every paragraph of life, I try to feel the echo of my soul, build a square city with words, and walk through the clouds with a warm mood.

Because I loved Xu Zhimo's sentence: "The most gentle thing is the bowing of the head, just like a water lotus that is too shy for the cool wind." So, I walked in a gentle pace day and night, with the water rhyme and calligraphy fragrance, banished the past and the present into a cantabile andante, with a dream in the south of the Yangtze River, light clothes, alone in the blue boat, carrying all the water, light and shadow, Tracing back to the deep silence of time, tracing back

I like rain. Often walking in the rain, listening to the voice of the rain, appreciating the dance of the rain, a faint clove complex will be entangled in the rain and fog, never stop... The white walls and green tiles in the rain and fog, bridges and flowing water, pavilions and pavilions, as well as the moving umbrella shadow, can always remind me of infinite reverie, really want to break through the layers of rain and fog to pursue those sections of the past.

I like purple. If my memory can have color, then, I hope it is purple, just like the purple lavender; If my dream can have color, I also hope it is purple, just like the purple rose. In this life, I always want to incarnate into a lilac in the depths of cloud water, quietly blooming, blooming a corner of the purple landscape, gently emitting a plain rhyme and subtle fragrance, and swaying a sense of Provencal romance and customs with the wind.

I like dancing in words. I hope that every landing point of mine is poetic and picturesque, and every rotation and flight of mine has infinite scenery. I wish: I am as pure and transparent as my heart; I am as beautiful as my dream.

I like living in the elegance of silk and bamboo. A deep ancient zither, dressed in a light purple dress, in the waning, warm a pot of moonlight to make wine, sit alone in the corner of the painting building, watch the willow shadow fluctuate into a lonely scene in the middle of the night, and then imagine the lingering love forever, let your thoughts slide across the canvas of years, smile slightly, and travel far away

Picking up those wandering memories, in my dreams, I often go to the desert to look for Loulan by riding the old wind and stepping on the old clouds alone, go to the Gobi to shake the prayer tube, go to the rain lane, learn from the lilac girl to move to the bluestone slab, go to the Xiaoxiang Hall, learn from the Daiyu hoe to bury the fallen flowers

I really want to live in seclusion in a secluded valley, watch the maple floating and the plum falling, smoke cage bamboo forest, play the piano and flute, twist words and chant, and lie drunk in the misty rain; I really want to wear the long bright moon breeze in the quiet, bathe in the gentle spring breeze blowing across my face, stretch my sleeves and dance with butterflies. In the future, I will live elegantly, not to be swayed by circumstances, not to lament the desolation of the world, not to allow myself to be decadent, not to be vulgar, not to be seduced by fame and wealth, leave my sadness behind and let the wind blow away; Hang the cheerful face on the seasonal branches and smile warmly.

I want to be a woman as pure as water lilies. Like a lotus, it rises out of the mud without being stained. It is in a valley with unique fragrance. It is muddy and pure. Let the flowing fireflies adorn the dream, gently shake the shackles of the world of mortals, and flowers blossom into paintings and poems. Even if the petals wither, it will also achieve the color ink paintings that I have described in my imagination.

I want to pave a moonlight plain paper, write down the lotus language in this world, and let Zhang Ailing say: "To be a kind woman, if you don't hate, you will be beautiful; if you forgive, you will be holy." Keep your heart, be calm and comfortable, learn to understand, learn to be merciful, keep a pure land, and fill your eyes with tranquility.

I want to live in the world created by myself. No matter whether someone cheers me or not, I still want to live a wonderful life with the simple and elegant background of Kaixintian. "As long as there is beauty in my heart, the years will never grow old". No matter what season, there is a voice of flowers in my heart.

In this life, I would like to wear plain clothes and clean my face, gather flowers at my fingertips, park a heart lamp, cut a bunch of white moonlight, light up my future, rely on words, walk with low eyebrows, leave a gentle poetic dream all the way, and leave a unique and charming mark in the world of mortals.

I would like to lean on the deep silence of time and be a quiet woman like a lotus, regardless of whether the running water chases the fallen flowers, regardless of whether the time is mottled and beautiful, regardless of whether the green silk turns into the snow at dusk, hold a ray of lotus fragrance in my arms, be calm, and let the light life pass slowly like a stream.

So, even if the beauty is old, why not?

A poem attached:

"Looking for a place with beautiful water and beautiful flowers"

I always want to be a plain woman.

Look for a river and flowers will bloom.

Elegant but not vulgar.

Smile without making public.

With poetic meditation.

Listen to Sanskrit softly singing in the mountains and rivers.

Don't envy the bright flowers, and don't admire the prosperity of 3000.

Elegant swaying in the misty rain and red dust.

The dust rises and falls calmly.

Meet the beautiful scenery.

With the wind and clouds.

Laugh with Siji.

Life is as gentle as water.

Watch time boil rain.

Let sorrow float with the wind.

In the winding years, you can smile leisurely.

Don't ask, is there a beautiful encounter in the world of mortals.

Don't ask, who decorated whose dream in this life.

Embrace Qinghuan and walk in a leisurely manner.

The scenery of each journey is freehand painted into ink painting.

In this life, I wish to be a pure flower.

Keep your original intention.

Not empty negative beauty in the morning and evening.

Bathing in the serenity, we are happy.

In a flower.

Dressed in plain makeup, the clothes are flowing.

The left hand poetry yellow volume, the right hand fireworks life.

Put your dream far away and live in Chang'an.

In the Depth of Time (4)

"In the morning and evening, I am waiting for you in the depth of time." This is what you said to me.

Young ignorance has bound my mind, and I have no other choice. I promised you that when I went to other places for a drink or a visit to Huajian, who would have forgotten you. The outside world is wonderful, and I have missed it. However, in the midst of ups and downs and noise, I could not find the destination of my soul, and I was lost in vanity.

Finally, by chance, an old friend met, and you were still there, just as if you hadn't seen him for a long time.

"The phoenix chirps in the other highland; the plane tree grows in the other sunrise." The touch of your eyes on this paragraph of text has triggered a storm in your heart. Then, I remembered you, whom I had forgotten in the depth of time, and my heart suddenly felt stable.

Only then did I know that only you became the whale in my dream that incarnated as an island, and only you could hear the ocean in my heart. I can't leave you. When I read a book three times a day, I feel that I can get it easily?

Make a cup of tea and sit down with you for a chat. I haven't seen you for many days. Your wealth seems to be deep again, which makes me marvel and think it is wonderful. It is the feeling of purifying the soul and washing the soul. In this way, it is even more inseparable.

After careful consideration, "The phoenix is singing in the other highland; the plane tree is born in the other sunrise." The phoenix does not leave the plane, and the plane tree does not leave the phoenix. Isn't this just like me and you? I can't leave you, you also care about me, now it is also realized. The artistic conception of "phoenix soars in a thousand feet, no matter it is a phoenix or a phoenix".

"I am waiting for you in the depth of time." This is what you said, but in retrospect, it is very touching, like fine water flowing in my heart for a long time. As time goes by, how many people and things are willing to wait like this? I am growing, but you are yellowing, my dearest!

You turned into rain, washed away all the lead for me, and then I was a piece of flawless jade. One day, you will become a fiery fire, let me experience and reborn in it, and become a proud phoenix looking down on the common people; Or, you have become the phoenix tree that I love alone, and you will stay with me until the end of time.

I hold you in my hand and caress your words that emit ink fragrance. I just feel that I should stick to the depth of time with you. I also sigh that henceforth, phoenix does not leave Wu, Wu does not leave Feng.

In the Depth of Time (5)

If time can go back, if I can create a time machine, I must go back to the past, get to know you well, remember you, and keep your face from changing with the passage of time.
This photo shows me when I was born in the hospital.
When you sweat like escaping from a steamer, your face is full of pain. But joy triumphs over pain and comes out of your mouth. If you don't like to smile, you will burst into a pure smile because of my birth. Because of difficult labor, you can only choose caesarean section. At the moment when I was born, your joy prevailed over all other emotions. I was born with a handsome face, healthy body and happy personality because of you!
This photo is a time to share happiness with you in bed.
At that time, you gave me an old gramophone. I put it on the table. Every day, I could hear beautiful sounds, which echoed in every corner of the house. Whenever you see me happy after listening to music, you shake me like a doll. I often sit on your stomach while listening to music, and you hum songs to me like a phonograph. These beautiful memories are printed on the bed sheets.
This photo shows me dancing with you in the snow.
You know, it often snows in winter in the north. Whenever the snow is falling and the ground is covered with snow, you put on new clothes for me, and you also put on new clothes for yourself. We hugged each other and walked downstairs. Their faces were as red as fire in winter. They were very beautiful when compared with the white earth. You cover my face, let my body no longer cold; You touch my head, let my heart ignite a fire. Let's dance in the snow.
My memories of living with you are all beautiful, and you have imprinted an immortal mark on my heart. From the very beginning, we were destined to depend on each other and take care of each other. You must know - Mother!

In the Depth of Time (6)

You compose in the depth of time

In our ordinary daily life, everyone has tried to write a composition. Writing a composition can exercise our habit of being alone, calm our mind, and think about our future direction. How to write a composition to avoid stepping on thunder? The following is your composition in the depth of time. You are welcome to learn from it. I hope it can help you.

The spring rain makes camellia red, wheat sprouts green, and the lake is empty. The wormwood leaves on the lakeshore are poured out in a tender green, with elegant fragrance in their hair, which reminds us of the childhood memories.

When I was young, I followed my grandmother and walked towards the green on the lake bank. Walking through the spring and the reeds. The high hanging fishing net was covered with morning dew, reflecting the tiny light.

Grandma bent down and buried herself in the mugwort green. The slightly raised right arm brushed the top of the shoot and picked the yellowed shoots of wormwood. Her head drooped, her lips parted, her voice murmured. Under the pale blue sky, it is like a sacred memorial ceremony. Like my grandmother, I picked off the tip of a wormwood leaf and put it into my mouth. The cold taste was tinged with bitterness, while the aftertaste was tinged with sweetness. Looking up, Grandma took a few more steps, and I hurried to catch up, letting Ai Jian's dew wet his clothes.

I went back to the old house along the field path.

Everything is as old as before. On the south wall, there are old calamus and moxa sticks above the lintel made of branches and wood. Arriving at the stone mill in the corner, a layer of light floating dust engraved the ruthlessness of Taoist time. I seemed to hear the sound of the stone mill rolling again, and in front of me was the figure of Grandma grinding her face, just like in the past.

"Grind it slowly. The powder is fine and even." Grandma held the grinding crutches in her hands and stepped on the grinding track around the stone mill step by step and circle by circle. Every week when the stone mill rolls, I will stand on my tiptoe and add a small scoop of broken rice to the grinding hole to see it slowly sinking. The stone mill pushed round and round, and the white and fine rice flour fell all over the mill plate. I also stood up and tried to push the stone mill, but did not move. I was so worried that my forehead was sweating. Grandma touched my head and said, "Don't worry, dear girl. When I grow up, I can push it." I had to go to see Grandma making moxa cakes. The wormwood leaves with water droplets collide with the white rice noodles, forming balls, gently pressing into different cakes, sticking them on the mud stove, and finally sublimating in the fire. When the stove is opened again, the hot air carries the fragrance of the wormwood, and the sweetness of the noodles floats all over the village, rippling in waves. My grandma and I were laughing and holding the moxa cake.

I thought that time would erase everything, and old things would go with the wind. But in fact, time is the best winemaker. One sip of wine will bring tears to my eyes. Through the tears, I saw Grandma leaning against the door, smiling toward me. Originally, you are in the depth of time, silently accompany, never leave.

Turning back, I looked at the stone mill for the last time. Grandma's words seemed to ring in my ears again: "Mill, slowly push..." I sorted out and raised my legs to step out of the wooden door. "Grandma, I will keep going with your faith."

Looking up at the sky, just like the once pale blue, it has never changed.

In the Depth of Time (7)

Often, I like to put my head on the arm called "Just a moment ago", and use gradually blurred eyes to identify the journey, scenery, and people I have traveled.

?? I know that I am not used to writing down things that are close to me in time in words or words, which makes me flustered. But it is comforting to know that I can also go over these things that are close to me to visit those times that will eventually be far away.

?? This feeling is sometimes very strange. It is clear that you are drinking tea, listening to music, looking at a book, and looking up this afternoon, you will see another you, who is staggering forward, as if his eyes are always straight, but none of them are very serious and careful. Their hands are empty, but they are always busy picking up. How old are you? Five or older, eight.

?? Well, that's the age.

?? In spring, the green becomes a flourishing sea. Everyone is an elf in the sea. Camel red small face, wrote a lot of excitement and blandness, eight year old you, laugh recklessly. In the corner, there is the wicker bag lying quietly. There are things brought back by your father. Your hands are stroking over and over again, hoping that your own temperature can warm the big wicker bag. In that case, will your father have a sense, will he come back to you thousands of miles away, bend down with a smile, and hold you on his high shoulder?

?? When you are groping, you often unconsciously stick your whole face to the big wicker bag. The cool feeling of those smooth branches at the beginning is quickly dispelled by your temperature. You can smell your father's body odor on it, and even think of the heavy pressure and bent waist that it will bring to your father when he carries it home.

?? You love it only because it is a father's thing. Although, at the moment, you haven't really called out your father, but in your young heart, you know that he is the root of your life and the family member closely related to you.

?? Then you fell asleep.

?? One morning, you got up very early, and the sky was just a blur. You said you wanted to go out to see the sun, and then you saw the huge sphere that could be clearly seen with the naked eye, the layer of gauze wrapped on its body, and the obvious spots inside the gauze. Such a big family, it would even hurt itself into an ugly mess. I see your mouth is open, smile on your face layer by layer, but no sound can be heard.

?? Fortunately, in a short time, the rays of light shot out from every pore of the sun's body, and it became a beautiful fireball, sending out endless energy to the world. Your smile moved more and more, and the moist soil began to emit a fragrance. It seemed that I could smell the fragrance with you across such a long time and space, but it was not enough, right?

?? You squat down and hold your cheeks. In the sunny morning, you silently miss someone who is too far away from you. If he comes back, you will never refuse to call him "Dad" or refuse the front of his car. You remember, in winter, when he came back, he took you to the photo studio, clumsily combed your flowing sea with that beautiful blue comb, held you on his lap, sat under the incandescent lamp, and waited for the shutter to press down, your heart was happy and shy.

?? At the moment, the sun shines brightly all over the world, hundreds of times brighter than the lights in the photo studio. You stand up and imagine yourself standing beside him, snuggling up with him, and also imagine your father in the snow and ice and laughing with you. The shutter of time really rings, clicks, and wakes me up in this dusty afternoon.

?? The black and white photo is spread out under my knee.

?? Someone, scenery, mood, but no voice.

?? There was some fog in the middle of the room. I tried to wipe my eyes brighter, and carefully identified the face of Junlang, a young man just 30 years old, and the innocent girl on his knee, but it seemed impossible. It was getting dark, and the eyes began to be filled with some tasteless moisture.

?? Those who once, in the rush of time, gradually turned yellow, old, and became a photo of the old in the album. We were pressed to the bottom of our hearts. In the deserted afternoon or late at night, we gradually dried up and became old.

In the Depth of Time (8)

Meet again in the depth of time

one

"Oh, Zhengguo, come in quickly." Mom Qi opened the door. Dad Tao and Dad Qi used to be classmates. The two families are very familiar, of course, only between parents. Tao's father forced Tao Zi to come to visit the New Year. According to Tao Zi's bad habits, she was unwilling to go out of the greenhouse. Not only was she lazy, but also she was afraid of the cold.

"Hello, uncle and aunt!" Tao Zi said hello cleverly. After a few greetings, the Taozi family naturally sat in a fixed position on the sofa.

Tao Zi held the cup and covered her hands. The adults asked her about the university without any hesitation. It is no different from before.

"Oh, Xiu is back!" "Uncle Tao, Aunt Tao, Tao Tao!" Qi Xiu went from the bedroom to the living room and greeted one by one.

Tao Zi squinted at the boy in front of him. He was very tall and white. He was wearing an extremely long gray windbreaker that was difficult to control. A white sweater wrapped his sharp chin, nine cent pants and a pair of lazy slippers, revealing white instep, which was very elegant. It has changed a lot since childhood. Tao Zi's heart beat quickly.

"Tao Tao, call me brother!" Tao Ma pushed Tao Zi, who smiled at Qi Xiu, with eight white teeth. "This child." Mother Tao smiled apologetically and glared at Tao Zi angrily.

So, one more person asked her about the university.

"How many people did Tao Tao know in the university?" "A class did." "Oh, that's more people than Xiao Xuan knows." Tao Zi smiled. Lu Xuan is Qi Xiu's younger sister. When she was young, she was very good friends with Tao Zi. Later, Lu Xuan transferred to another school, and her relationship became weaker and weaker.

"Has Tao Tao applied to join the Party?" "Is Tao Tao going to take the postgraduate entrance exam?"...... Qi Xiu is much more cheerful than before. He is no longer the shy teenager in the picture, but his actions are all mature men. Tao Zi answered his question with a smile on the signboard, seemingly calm, but who knew that her little heart had drowned in the magnetic and gentle "Tao Tao".

Later, Qi's father began to talk about work and state affairs with Tao's father. Qi Xiu was also quietly fiddling with his mobile phone. Tao Zi firmly held the cup and pretended to watch TV. In fact, his eyes were always on Qi Xiu.

"Wow! His hands are so long and beautiful." "Wow, his eyelashes are so long." Tao Zi was upset when he enjoyed it. Why didn't he sit closer to him? Why didn't he have the courage to ask him for a contact information. So small tangle until leaving.

Tao Zi walked ahead, and the Qixiu family sent them away. Tao Zi felt the strong masculine flavor and faint fragrance behind her, and her height was just right on Qi Xiu's shoulder. Tao Zi thought about her height and blushed, and did not know whether Qi Xiu saw it.

Tao Zi didn't speak after she came out. The cold wind blew her long soft hair, forcing her to calm down. She thought carefully about her performance today and her previous relationship, and thought she might like Qi Xiu. I have seen many boys, handsome and ruffian, but it is the first time that she has the feeling of blushing and heartbeat.

two

Tao Zi first met Qi Xiu at Lu Xuan's house. At that time, Tao Zi was like a little boy with a hairy head, fat baby and big eyes. Qi Xiu rubbed her head, because Tao Zi saw that he didn't call his brother, and talked to him like a little adult. Mingming is 3 years older than Tao Zi, but he seems to have lost his younger brother's authority.

When Lu Xuan turned away in the second grade, Tao Zi stopped playing with her, and Qi Xiu gradually disappeared into his memory, the tall and clean young neighbor.

When Tao Zi was in the third grade, Qi Xiu was preparing for the junior high school entrance exam. She met him once at school. The teacher asked Tao Zi and his wife to check the sanitation of grade six. Walking in the corridor of the sixth grade, the students were fighting, and no one paid attention to these little dots. Small Tao Zi thinks they are so mature and powerful, and he is so naive. Tao Zi checked and registered before she left. Someone stopped her and said, "Tao Tao!"

Tao Zi turned around to find Lu Xuan's brother, but she had forgotten his name. "Hmm." Tao Zi is a little nervous. After all, there are girls nearby. It's a great thing to meet senior students in the world view of primary school students. Tao Zi is worried that they will talk nonsense.

"How about the sanitation in our class?" Qi Xiu smiled at the little adult in front of him. "OK, no points deducted." Tao Zi pretended to be calm and greeted his gentle eyes. Well, it looks good.

"Good." Qi Xiu touched Tao Zi's hair, Xiao Bobo's head.

"Goodbye!" Tao Zi stepped back, smiled and ran away quickly. She didn't see Qi Xiu's open mouth.

Qi Xiu did well in the exam that year and was admitted to the junior high school in the city. Tao's father told Tao Zi and encouraged him to study hard.

By a strange coincidence, Tao Zi wrote the junior high school in the goal column on the first page of his diary.