E-PT

 　　A comment on NetEase Cloud Music says that "good kids" aren't usually happy. 　　They're mostly taciturn, docile, and obedient, like a still valley without echoes, like the Dead Sea without waves, like a deserted horse track with no riders. 　　Good kids usually have their own secret garden: a diary, a space visible only to themselves, a never-updated social media feed, a pen pal they've never met, or a line of ants unnoticed under the window, or a plush toy stored away in the storage room. 　　Good kids, once they've chosen a friend, readily open up their colorful inner world, but because they're too eager, they almost never receive the empathy they crave. In the end, they're still alone. Once they've chosen a lover, their world revolves around them, but because of their poor, pale expressions of love, they can only helplessly lose the wild excitement and heartache. Good 　　kids have mostly cried secretly at night because of the many grievances they s...

　　A life filled with stories. Stories are the essence of all forms of writing and art, and I love listening to and telling stories.　　When I was little, my grandmother would tell me many folk tales and myths. Watching her silver hair flutter in the wind, I would immerse myself in the world she described. 　　Literature, film, music, drama, opera, crosstalk, sketch comedy, language arts, painting, sculpture, mythology. The literary theory book that influenced me the most, though not exactly orthodox, is simply called "Story." 　　I've read and heard many wonderful stories that I still remember fondly years later. I've also read many novels written by young people and works by young writers, listened to classical music, and listened to pop songs on the radio. I read popular novels and also Lao Tzu and Zhuangzi. Sometimes I feel like I'm a hodgepodge! 　　This hodgepodge doesn't feel good to me; life is chaotic, I admit. But finding patterns within chaos is also human n...

 　　The sunlight was beautiful, gentle and full of love. Unable to resist its allure, I put down my book and strolled slowly through the countryside, basking in its warmth. The mountain village in mid-spring was serene, the fields bursting with vibrant green. A few ducks floated in the clear pond by the roadside, quacking and playing. Ripples spread across the water, shimmering 　　in the sunlight. Walking quietly, I came to a pine forest. The pine branches cast dappled shadows on the ground. The delicate fragrance of orchids wafted through the air, faint and subtle. 　　Passing through the pine forest, I reached the reservoir. Surrounded by green mountains, the water was a deep, clear blue. I found a clean rock to sit on, watching the shimmering waves gently kiss and embrace the rocks on the shore. Willows swayed along the bank, and several white waterbirds rested in the shade, their reflections in the rippling water dreamlike and enchanting. 　　Before I knew it, dusk had fallen. The se...

   An activity, a decision, a journey—our "Sailing" social practice team arrived at Shangrong Primary School in Qinba Town, Wuchuan City. We didn't expect to have good food and sleep; instead, we were prepared to do what we most wanted to do, facing the most difficult and impoverished circumstances.   During this process, we were filled with tension, fear, and worry. We were nervous about whether the children would understand our lessons; afraid about whether we could communicate effectively with them; and worried that the children would reject or dislike us. Fortunately, after arriving, the children warmly welcomed us.   In today's "Leaf Puzzle" craft class, the children brought their favorite leaves. We taught them how to make leaf puzzles, showed them some templates, and then had them work in groups to complete their own creations. This course was related to our major, so it was relatively easy to do.   "Teacher, look, this is the whale I made!"...

 　　This summer, the rains have come unusually frequently. 　　Strolling at dusk, gazing at the distant mountains washed clean and blue, the smiling Qingshui River, watching the streetlights light up one by one, and seeing a few skateboarding teenagers darting like swifts in the square, a faint smile appears on my lips. A feeling of joy quietly grows in my heart, like tiny white mushrooms on a prairie after the rain— 　　I love the city's four seasons, their rhythms distinct and crisp. The leaves turn green overnight, crickets begin their afternoon chorus, the wind carries a slight chill from the moment autumn begins, and another morning arrives, the windowpanes adorned with delicate frost patterns. But my favorite season is still summer. Even though the midday sun is like molten steel, the nights are always as cool as silk. The streets are more bustling at night than during the day. People emerge from their concrete and steel cubicles; there are mountains of melon stalls, the aroma of ...

 　　Eileen Chang's Classic Quotes: 　　1. Because I understand, I am compassionate. 　　2. Human nature is the most interesting book; you can never finish reading it in a lifetime. 　　3. The most detestable person, if you study them closely, you'll find they are nothing more than a pitiful person. 　　4. I've heard countless people say that when she was my age, she was thinner than me—seemingly predicting that I will definitely be fatter than them in the future. 　　5. I like money because I've never suffered from a lack of money, I don't know its evils, only its benefits. 　　6. If you have too much money, you don't need to think about it; if you have absolutely no money, you also don't need to think about it. 　　7. To be able to love someone to the point of asking them for pocket money is a rigorous test. 　　8. Outwardly, it seems that women in different countries have different social statuses, but in reality, women are always inferior. Getting angry is useless; life i...

 　　When I was eighteen, I was out shopping one day when a girl in a cheongsam appeared across the street. Although the street was bustling, I spotted her immediately. She wore a long, floral-patterned, modernized cheongsam, exuding an elegant and unique charm. Her figure was slender, and she walked silently through the crowd with her head down, like a lotus flower in motion. 　　From then on, I always wanted to buy a cheongsam. In our small county town in central China, there were almost no shops selling cheongsams, but I didn't give up. Every time I went shopping, I would carefully search in various clothing stores. Finally, one day, I found a simple cheongsam in a very inconspicuous little shop. It was mid-length, with a slanted plaid, and a light red plaid pattern—simple and elegant yet graceful. I was overjoyed and bought it without even haggling. 　　The next day, I wore the cheongsam to work. Many people turned to look at me on the way. When I arrived at the company, everyone I m...

 　　You're unwilling to succumb to depravity yet lack ambition; your inherent laziness has mired you in a quagmire, making you utterly hopeless. 　　Effort and reward go hand in hand. Will you completely overcome laziness, or resign yourself to mediocrity? Life's journey is long, and all beings suffer. Buddha is compassionate, but he will disappear when you struggle in darkness. Buddha believes all people suffer, fate is impermanent, and one must save oneself. 　　People say, mountains may crumble, people may run away, only self-reliance is truly reliable. Even the closest lovers, parasitic on each other for too long, will lose love and dignity, leaving a miserable couple. Your elderly parents, your impoverished family—how can you bear to devour them? Thinking back, I haven't wronged anyone, except for burdening and causing them suffering, leaving only a heart full of bitterness.

 　　When I was little, my grandfather always used stories like "hanging one's head from the beam and pricking one's thigh with an awl," "borrowing light by chiseling a hole in the wall," and "studying by the light of snow" to encourage me to study hard. At that time, I was clueless and didn't understand why. It wasn't until I entered society and began to understand the world that I grasped the profound meaning of "studying." Books are silent sages; though they are wordless, they teach us how to be a person, and what kind of person we should be. 　　Reading attentively can lead to love. From the poem, "By day they weed the fields, by night they spin hemp; the village children each take charge of their own affairs. Even the young grandchildren, not yet understanding farming and weaving, learn to plant melons under the shade of mulberry trees," we can read the love of rural men, women, and children for their labor. From the po...

 　　"Green grass, yellow willows, peach blossoms in profusion, plum blossoms fragrant," "The wind stirs the plum buds, the rain reddens the apricot blossoms." In this vibrant springtime, with its singing birds and dancing butterflies, and the revival of all things 　　, the grass is lush and the flowers are fragrant. My colleague, Xiao Du, ordered a large box of colorful plastic flowerpots for our office. The small, exquisite pots, placed on our desks, became a beautiful sight. Everyone brought their own plants and planted them with great enthusiasm and care. Instantly, the office was transformed into a sea of ​​flowers, a truly delightful sight. 　　Flowers are living things with a spirit; like music, they can relieve fatigue, cultivate one's character, and enhance one's refinement. I also love flowers, but I don't know how to grow them. Or rather, I lack the leisure and inclination. I've even found a good excuse for myself—I'm too busy! I'm so b...

 　　Today is a new day, and I want to be a completely new version of myself. I know the world is a mirror that reflects the depths of the soul; how you view the world is how the world views you—whether it's sadness, joy, sunshine, or rain. 　　I want to befriend my "enemies." I know all hostility is painful and temporary; only friendship is eternal, offering boundless imagination and warmth. I must never let hatred take root in my heart, becoming a fuse for anger, evolving into a "tumor" within me, slowly eroding the precious moments of life. 　　I can no longer complain about life. I cannot let my environment control my mood. Queues, traffic jams, cursing, endless work, bland lunches, disdainful glances… they may seem "terrible," but if you change your perspective, they are all minor episodes in life, notes that murmur or soar, strung together to form the symphony of life, lingering and accompanying me through countless days and nights. 　　I am no longer af...

 　　The state I dislike most is living in constant anxiety, feeling restless and sad, unable to enjoy life anymore, being eroded by entertainment, and gradually accepting this superficiality. 　　It's worse than death; you start to doubt if life is a parabola, each day dulling you like a whetstone. When you can no longer maintain your uniqueness, when inner doubt overwhelms all persistence, empty your mind. 　　Let it go. Before anyone says anything, you choose self-exile. Rather than saying we've been changed by something, it's more accurate to say we're simply empty and weak. 　　The world is irrelevant to me, others are irrelevant to me. When you have no demands, have you ever treated yourself well? How can someone who doubts and hates themselves not become the person they hate? It 　　's difficult, isn't it? I don't know which way the wind is blowing, I only know that my voice cannot choke back. If I can't be a clown full of gimmicks, if I can't let even ...

 　　As a child, like all children, I had a special fascination with candy. If I got one or two candies, I would clutch them tightly in my hand, put my hand in my pocket, and caress them for a long time, reluctant to put them in my mouth. Even if I placed them on my tongue, I would try to let them linger for a while. That way, it seemed like there was more, a longer anticipation, making the happy days feel so long. 　　Now, I feel the same way when faced with a good book. Every time I encounter a good book, although I am incredibly eager to read it, I still can't bear to rush through it. I need to suppress my passion, give myself time to organize my thoughts, clarify my psychological needs, give myself space to open my mind, and prepare to accept it. 　　I always believe that rushing to seize beautiful things is irrational; doing so only yields superficial glamour, while its profound beauty needs to be savored slowly with a calm mind. Now, I can completely understand the seemingly tediou...

 　　Swallows bring spring's invitation, their chirping urging the fragrance of peach, plum 　　, and willow catkins to bloom. Another year of verdant grass, a garden bursting with spring's beauty. 　　Spring is the symbol of burgeoning life, the cradle of all things' revival, the garden of a hundred flowers in full bloom. Spring has arrived; gazing afar, the vast fields burst forth with new green; admiring closely, the branches, once covered in ice, sprout new buds. Spring brings life to the earth, vitality to all things. 　　Spring has arrived; a breeze, a ray of spring sunshine; a rain, a layer of spring color—spring breezes and spring rains compose the symphony of spring. 　　Spring has arrived; a willow branch, a touch of tenderness; a cluster of flowers, a wisp of warmth—spring scenery and spring colors activate spring's exuberance. 　　Spring is like a beauty emerging from a bath, delicate and charming. Those damp notes awaken the streams to pluck the melody of "idly le...

 　　At first, it wasn't as tall as me, but within two years, it was taller than my head. 　　I had a pact with the magnolia: if I left, the magnolia would leave; if I stayed, the magnolia would stay. 　　Two more years passed, and I was walking back and forth in its dense shade, living under its shade. In my life, the magnolia is my favorite tree. I love its leaves, I love the glossy green of its leaves, I love its flowers, and I especially love the bees and butterflies fluttering among them. 　　Whenever I'm home, I gaze at it countless times. When I'm away from home, I think of it countless times. The magnolia has become a part of my life. 　　The magnolia in spring brings me emotion. It blooms so unexpectedly, one by one, so white. Standing under the tree, I often compare its white blossoms to the white of the pear blossoms on the old, weathered pear tree behind the house, and to the white of the apricot blossoms on the low apricot tree by the wall. I find that comparison very in...

 　　The door is half-open, half-closed, like the eyes of early spring. 　　The occasional croaking of frogs drifts in; I think they are confiding, or perhaps yearning for love. The sounds rise and fall, lingering and deep. I can't help but secretly ask myself, how should I express myself, how should I express my longing? With sound or with my heart? 　　Outside the window, stars twinkle, and the crescent moon rises quietly. The wind gently caresses the leaves. All I can do is slowly sweep away the remnants of longing from my memory. Let my heart be still, let the trees be still, let the frogs be silent. Quietly await the arrival of a spring rain. 　　The wind and leaves whisper incessantly, the clouds and the moon are entangled, chasing each other. Only silence fills the room, the sound of my own breathing. Let go of one thought, and all is at ease. Alone, I keep company with the earth, searching for the place of my heart's peace. Ignore the streaks of snow at my temples, ignore the w...

 　　"Oriental Bell Toad!" With my exclamation, the uncles and aunties from the Beijing Birdwatching Association, carrying their "long lenses and short cannons," rushed over from the shores of Hengshui Lake, bombarding me and the toad with their cameras. But what surprised them wasn't the rare toad itself, but that I, a mere twelve-year-old, could accurately name its scientific name. 　　From a young age, I've loved nature, adored animals, and especially enjoyed reading books about them. From "The Complete Paleontology," "Analysis of Marine Life," to "The Insect World," and "Illustrated Guide to Amphibians and Reptiles," I've always savored them repeatedly, with "Illustrated Guide to Amphibians and Reptiles" being my most captivating. The Madagascar Leaf-tailed Gecko, the Red Newt, and the Poison Dart Frog—their scales are incomparably beautiful, and I know their habits and characteristics by heart. To verify...

 　　"Books hold houses of gold, books hold beauties like jade." When I was little, I didn't understand the meaning of this saying, nor did I understand why books contained those things. Back then, I couldn't read. My parents were busy with work and left me at home, afraid I'd damage them, so they gave me two picture books filled with pictures 　　and very few words. I would take them and look at the pictures—beautiful mermaids, foolish kings, and pretty princesses. When my parents came home, they would read to me whenever they had time, and I grew up reading. In elementary school, because it was the age for playing, I didn't read anymore. However, in third grade, I developed a love for reading, specifically composition books. I enjoyed those that recorded the little things that happened around me; I found them very interesting. In middle school, my homeroom teacher loved reading and said we should cultivate good reading habits. She used class funds to buy over 10...

 　　A few days ago, I had the opportunity to visit the Hebei Provincial Library for work. This was my first time visiting a library since graduating from university in 1996. Upon entering, I was immediately captivated by the tranquil atmosphere and the rich aroma of books. The library has been renovated, with a more rational layout and a significantly larger collection. Although it was Monday, there were still quite a few people reading; some were sitting at tables in the lobby, while others were standing and leaning against pillars. The three social science sections were particularly crowded, with people sitting at every table, some copying, some reading intently, and others searching for books on the shelves. The entire room was busy yet orderly, so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Occasionally, a cell phone would ring, but only once before silence returned, because it was so quiet that everyone was afraid to break the tranquility. After some searching, my colleague and I found th...

 　　In a foreign land, I'm used to measuring the local customs with my eyes and understanding the folkways with my heart. No matter where I am, every brick, every tile, every person, and every event evokes endless emotions in me. 　　Yao'an has two distinctive features that I rarely saw before. In the north, where rainfall is scarce, single-story houses are the norm, but in Yao'an, pointed-roof tile houses are everywhere, surrounded by high walls forming deep courtyards with vermilion gates. Perhaps the branches in the courtyards couldn't resist climbing over the walls. Such architecture, in the north where family values ​​are strong, is both solemn and vibrant. I grew up in a mountain village, where I mostly saw stone houses nestled at the foot or halfway up the mountain. I rarely saw this kind of architecture, and my mind was full of questions: Why are the walls so high? Why are the gates red? Why are the roofs pointed? 　　Walking along the paths of this foreign land, wat...

 　　I like to write down the people and events of each day on my calendar, filling it with the memories of my growth, gains, losses, joys, and sorrows. 　　This hobby originated from a radio broadcast where the host mentioned keeping a calendar by her bedside and circling the birthdays of every relative and friend, as well as all the holidays of the year, adding notes of blessings. Every morning when she woke up, she would tell herself that someone needed her blessing today, that it was a happy day, or that a special day awaited her, a blissful day. 　　At that moment, I immediately decided to follow suit, starting to circle and record things on my own calendar. 　　Turning the pages of the red and green calendar, the year's events unfolded vividly before my eyes. 　　Work frustrations led to this: "These past few days, I've encountered some difficulties at work, and I've been feeling a bit down. I can't let this continue. Suddenly, I remembered a saying I saw: 'The onl...

 　　I strolled alone along the country lane, bathed in the warm sunshine, a gentle spring breeze caressing my face. My heart felt open and free; everything was reviving, everything was growing, the vast earth brimming with the power of life. 　　Most captivating were the rows of weeping willows along the riverbank. Weeping willows are truly picturesque; the lines, "A tall tree adorned in jade, ten thousand green silk ribbons hanging down," are indeed beautiful verses. In just a few days, seemingly in the blink of an eye, the dark brown branches of the willows by the riverbank magically transformed into a tender, pale yellow. Gently lifting them to examine them, tiny, fuzzy, light green buds peeked out from the crimson buds, like a bride shyly revealing half her face, her veil half-hidden; the graceful branches, like the bride's hair, swayed in the breeze. 　　The melodious "dududu" of willow whistles filled the air as a group of children ran about, swinging tender wi...

 　　Reading is as essential to me as air, water, and sunshine. Reading a good book always brings a sense of warmth, like eating a delicious meal, even more satisfying than drinking fine liquor. 　　I can't remember when I first became involved with books. When I was very young, my father told me stories of ancient scholars who studied diligently: Kuang Heng "carved a hole in the wall to steal light," Che Yin "gathered fireflies for light," Sun Kang "read by the light of snow," Sun Jing "hung his head from the beam," and Su Qin "pricking his thigh with an awl"—all exemplifying the importance of perseverance. From the time I learned to read, my father would always buy me several picture books whenever he went to the market or fair. I became addicted to them, and they greatly broadened my knowledge. Every day after school, while cutting grass and herding sheep with my friends, I would tell them exciting stories like Sun Wukong's havoc...

 　　I wake up in the thin light of dawn, always muttering to myself: "It's daylight, so beautiful." Everyone probably has a kind of fascination, intoxication, and longing for the pure beauty of nature. I especially love the time of daybreak; my body and soul, dormant all night, just want to run wildly with the morning light. In the quiet passage of the morning light, I also hope to find someone to miss. 　　That night, a heavy rain fell, dispelling much of the summer heat. The stone bricks gleamed with a bluish light. When my beloved morning arrived, I saw the old man still holding a round teapot in his right hand, swaying gently, humming softly. The Tang Dynasty poet Lu Tong wrote about tea: "One bowl moistens the throat and lips, two bowls dispel loneliness, three bowls scour the dry intestines..." The old man didn't set out an open bowl and gulp it down. He probably didn't know Zhou Zuoren's famous line: "Drinking tea should be done under a tile...

 　　People who enjoy reading are often quiet, or rather, possess a capacity for quietude. Especially those who become deeply absorbed in reading, like an old monk in meditation, may appear at first glance like a dazed child, seemingly oblivious to the passage of time, inevitably earning them the nickname "bookworm." Those who laugh may not realize that at that quiet desk, the "bookworm's" seemingly lost soul is joyfully wandering in the world of books, oblivious to the world around them. The piercing pain and exhilarating joy they experience are created by the rich realm of the silent book in their hands, making it hard to let go—this is the unique charm of reading! 　　In an era where everyone asks "What is the use?" before doing anything else, reading is inevitably questioned as well. The ancients said, "In books, there are houses of gold; in books, there are beauties like jade." In ancient times, impoverished scholars could change their fate ...