Xiaoxiao under the wind and rain

Chapter 221 (Passenger)
The journey is long, because you are smooth.

In the midsummer of that year, in front of the maple tree mountain, under the wooden plaque, there were hidden frogs and cicadas who couldn't go back.

The rain in midsummer is always pouring, the gods leisurely hang up the sky of clear dust, the breath of land renovation penetrates directly to the peak, and the feet of rain shoot over from a distance, splashing white steam all over the ground.It hit the marble tiles of the teaching building patteringly, leaving patches of water stains.Scattered people can always see small heads popping out of the window, closing their eyes and clasping their hands together, praying: "Don't run, don't run, don't run..." Probably a few words were missed when the radio was eavesdropping, excited Loud and high-spirited music was played on the ground, and the singing sounded into the hair along with the rain, and there was a burst of howling ghosts and wolves that made people's scalp numb.

The students had to droop their faces and walked into the rain curtain reluctantly.The rain fell on the shoulders pattering down the cheeks, and the clothes were wet.Probably trying to distract their attention and get through the training, everyone squinted and looked around absent-mindedly.But seeing this aroused dissatisfaction among the crowd - all the teachers in the building watched us in a leisurely manner! The team started to commotion, and everyone started whispering... I don't know who shouted nervously Said: The head teacher is behind!" The little heads looked back neatly, but saw the head teacher doing the funny martial arts exercises leisurely, her thin back, slightly frowned eyebrows, and dripping clothes And the meticulous look is like a tranquilizer, calming everyone's turmoil and annoyance. Everyone seems to have calmed down, and the rain is no longer interesting. A blank scroll.

The rain and mist seem to fall from the sky, and then rise from the grass, mightily, like wet the feathers of a blue sparrow.

Mama Zhang always silently influenced us.

I once sat in the pavilion on the playground with a ball in my arms, panting profusely with sweat, and happened to see Mama Zhang in the opposite building sitting at the table with her back straight and holding water in one hand and writing a book on the other. Stack after stack of things, looking at me from a distance as if I heard the creaking sound of the leaves in her room.I wondered, who was that written for?
This question has been buried in the bottom of my heart, and it has never been revealed. It has been so long that I have long since forgotten it.

The branches outside the window are growing wildly, and the scorching sun is so scorching. Through the emerald green maple leaves, the students are "fanning the flames" in the classroom chatting, and the noise seems to overturn the scorching sun.The method of quieting the noise is still the same - as long as the class teacher walks into the classroom calmly.Standing on the podium in a cheongsam, she slowly swept across the immature cheeks of everyone in the class without saying a word, but the girls' eyes were already filled with tears.She took a deep breath and wrote down my unforgettable words on the blackboard: "I will only see you once in your life, and I can't bear to say goodbye, but the bus has arrived. I will return the same way, and you will fly away. She smiled and said: Everyone She is my dearest and dearest guest at the banquet, and I am in a hurry to say goodbye, and I am preparing for the next meeting. Everyone is lined up, and she slowly leads the way, as if we have just stepped here. In just a few hundred meters, We walked slowly as if we wanted to make Shaoguang forget our existence. However, no matter how short the road is, there will be a day when we finish walking. She called everyone's name with a trembling voice, and handed me guestbooks one after another. , hold one small hand after another, and gently wipe away the tears of the students.
Under the large-character plaque, I stood quietly, looking at the book in my hand.And the fan in the hall was still turning slowly, creaking, and I seemed to see her back again.

Passer-by, passer-by, the simple word blows me full of melancholy.Simple words are like raindrops smashing the surface of the lake, splashing circles of flustered ripples.She is a very special existence, what is different? I can't say it, but every time I think of her, I always feel tenderness all the way, just like her hand caressing my cheek.I think, on my long journey, because of her existence, my journey is no longer alone, because of her, my journey is smooth all the way.

(End of this chapter)