Bing Xin’s introduction is about 100 words
Bing Xin, female, formerly known as Xie Wanying, is from Changle, Fujian, and a member of the China Association for the Promotion of Democracy. Chinese poet, modern writer, translator, children's literature writer, social activist, and essayist. The pen name Bing Xin comes from "a piece of ice heart in a jade pot".
In the "Morning News" in August 1919, Bing Xin published her first essay "Reflections on the Twenty-One Day Hearing" and her first novel "Two Families".
Before and after studying abroad in 1923, he began to publish correspondence essays under the general title "For Young Readers", which became the foundation of Chinese children's literature. In Japan, she was hired as the first foreign female lecturer by the University of Tokyo to teach the "New Chinese Literature" course. She returned to China in 1951.
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Autumn wind blows. Fuzhou, Bing Xin's former residence located on Nanhou Street, is quiet and solemn.
Bing Xin's youngest daughter Wu Qing said affectionately: "The traditional Chinese word 'love' contains a heart. My mother spent her whole life teaching me to love people with heart and shoulder social responsibilities."
In Changle, Bing Xin’s ancestral home, there is an endless stream of people mourning her in the Bing Xin Literature Museum.
“With love, everything comes.” This is Bing Xin’s message of the century.
"I have read her last words, which are these few words. Each word is not formed, but she is still writing. I understand that this is what she has gained from a century of life. Enlightenment." said Wang Binggen, president of Bing Xin Research Association.
In the Bing Xin Literature Museum, Ni Jianping, a reader who made a special trip, said: "Bing Xin is a great woman. She is upright and upright. She not only brings love to society, but also arouses society's conscience."
Looking up, the jade statue of Bing Xin sits quietly, accompanied by blooming red roses. The descendants use symbolic techniques to present the magnificence of her life in this way.
Bing Xin said: "I like roses the most because they have hard thorns and rich and light fragrance, which cannot conceal her unique character."
August 1919, The 19-year-old girl Xie Wanying used the pen name "Bing Xin" and published her first "issue novel" that reflected social reality: "Two Families".
“It was the lightning and thunder of May Fourth that shocked me onto the path of writing!” Bing Xin said. Since then, China's modern literary world has gained a "red rose with thorns" - the female writer Bing Xin who "tells the truth and writes the truth".
Ba Jin said during his lifetime: "Sister Bing Xin was the last veteran of the May Fourth New Literature Movement. She wrote for nearly a century and dedicated all her love to generations of young people. She was a key figure in the Chinese intellectual community. I respect her character and character and follow her as an example.",
"Love is on the right, sympathy is on the left, walking on both sides of the road of life, sowing seeds at any time, blooming at any time, and the future will bloom. This long path is filled with fragrant flowers, so that pedestrians walking through the thorns do not feel pain, have tears to shed, and are not desolate." Bing Xin used her life in the century to practice the "For Young Readers" newsletter. This motto of 19 lights up a "little orange light" of love for the world.
With you here, the lights are on
Bing Xin loves her hometown, her compatriots, her motherland, and the world. She comforts the hearts of readers with her great love and defends the dignity of the nation with her strong character. , to arouse the conscience of the world with his unremitting pen.
At this moment, in the late autumn, the longing of the hometown people is like the water of the Min River flowing endlessly.
Xinhuanet-Missing Bing Xin’s Hometown
Pictures of Bingdundun’s death
The internet rumors that Bingdundun looked like after his death are just rumors and not a real incident .
The picture of Bing Dundun’s death is not real, it is just a P-picture. In fact, Bingdundun is the mascot of the Beijing Winter Olympics designed based on a panda. It is a very cute giant panda. With big eyes, a round belly, and a little red heart in the palm of her hand, she has perfect cuteness skills. The shape of Bingdundun's head shell is taken from an ice and snow sports helmet, decorated with a colorful halo, and the overall image resembles an astronaut, full of a sense of the future, the times, and speed.
About the pictures of Bingdundun’s death, the most terrifying aspect of Bingdundun is the rumor, because there is no Bingdundun in reality, and there are no cartoons and other film and television works about Bingdundun, so there is no There are pictures of Bingdundun dead. Of course, there are a lot of funny pictures about Bingdundun on the Internet, all of which are homemade Bingdundun by folk craftsmen, and some of them are quite scary.
About Bingdundun’s copyright
The exclusive rights of Bingdundun belong to the Beijing Winter Olympics Organizing Committee. Bingdundun's cartoon image constitutes a work of art and is protected by the Copyright Law and subject to the restrictions on fair use of works in Article 24 of the Copyright Law. Unless otherwise provided by laws and regulations, no unit or individual may use the image and name of the mascot without the permission of the Beijing Winter Olympics Organizing Committee, including the development, dissemination and sale of related derivatives representing the work.
The image and name of the mascot may not be split, distorted, tampered with or used in other deformations, or used as components of other patterns. Those who use the mascot image and name in accordance with the law must comply with the relevant technical standards and specifications formulated by the Beijing Winter Olympics Organizing Committee.
The above content is referenced from: Bing Dundun
Bing Xin’s introduction in 20 words
Bing Xin, female, October 5, 1900 - February 28, 1999 , whose original name is Xie Wanying, was born in the Xie family mansion in Sanfangqixiang, Fuzhou, Fujian Province. She graduated from Wellesley Women's University in the United States and is a member of the China Association for the Promotion of Democracy. Chinese poet, modern writer, translator, children's literature writer, social activist, and essayist.
Bing Xin’s short essay of 50 words
Grandma Bing Xin is very strong. When she was 80 years old, due to cerebral thrombosis, she could no longer move her right half of her body and could not even hold a pen. Then she The leg was broken again. However, Grandma Bing Xin did not give up. She practiced holding a pen and writing again like a primary school student, and finally she could write again.
Grandma Bing Xin is very diligent. Grandma Bing Xin has a motto: read more, read good books, and study well. Grandma Bing Xin almost never stopped reading and writing throughout her life. She continued to read and write from the age of 19 to the age of 94. Just before her death, she did not forget to recite children's songs with her family.
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In terms of artistic expression, Bing Xin is good at learning from and using lyrical techniques. In the works, sometimes the narrator directly expresses emotions, and sometimes the author's subjective mood is revealed through the characters' language or psychological activities, giving the novel a strong lyrical color.
Bing Xin often likes to use first-person narrative techniques. Using "I" as the clue to unfold the story, it is full of affection and tells what I have seen, heard, suffered, felt, and touched, making readers feel that everything that happens in the novel is the reality of life, and there is no fiction. The woven composition has no romantic overtones, no artificial dramatic conflicts, no kitsch humor, and is endowed with verisimilitude and intimacy.
This provides the author with greater freedom and can start, end, turn, and change more flexibly. The author's strong emotions can be expressed more easily.
Bing Xin’s prose reflects the unique style that Bing Xin herself emphasized. Bing Xin is good at picking up fragments of life and weaving them into her own emotional waves. With her keen eyesight and detailed emotions, she blends the inner deep feelings with the triggers of external objects, embodies the emotions in the scenery, blends the scenes, and gives Readers enjoy the sublime beauty. Bing Xin attaches great importance to the beauty of prose connotation.
Her prose is novel in conception and clever in conception. In the seemingly ordinary subject matter, the creativity is surprising and the structure is changeable. This is a beautiful emotion condensed from her ideological attainments and living environment.
A short essay written by Bing Xin
Bing Xin is a female writer who became famous earlier in modern and contemporary China and has a wide audience. Her novels, poems, and prose creations are enthusiastically received by readers. Welcome and enthusiastic critical attention. Below are 3 selected short and beautiful essays about Bing Xin that I have collected for your reference.
Bing Xin's short and beautiful prose selection one: Quan'er
"Introduction to Indian Philosophy" to: "The prince roared like a lion: 'If I never get born, grow old, get sick, or die, Compassion, suffering, and attainment of Anuttarasamyaksambodhi cannot be repaid.'" This was done out of emotion. I had just been born, and there was already a dark and tight circle surrounding me from a distance, but I didn't feel it. Gradually, as I started to develop outwards, I felt restricted and restrained by it, and it seemed to be shrinking inwards too - so scary! There was only darkness, distress and sadness in the circle.
It shrank inward a little, and I got up and ran along the edge to call out. The result? It still covered me tightly, and I could only hold my breath and stand in the middle, unable to move anymore.
It shrank inward a little more, and I got up and ran along the edge to call out once more; after too many times, I became tired, —— Circle! Am I unable to resist you in the end? I will be trapped forever. Is it inside?
Get up! Be patient! Work hard!
Ah! The tight circle finally cracked. ──When you look outside, there is only light, happiness, and freedom outside the circle. ──As long as I can break out of the circle!
There is hope for the future. It’s not that I will never be able to resist it, and I won’t be trapped in it forever. Work hard! Be patient! Look at me splitting away this sorrow and sorrow, jumping out of the circle!
Bing Xin’s short and beautiful prose selections Part 2: A little bird
──I remember the day before yesterday One of the things I saw under the garden tree was a little bird. Its nest was built on the highest branch. Its feathers were not yet full and it could not fly far. It only chirped in the nest every day, together with two old birds. While talking,
they all felt very happy.
This morning, it woke up. The two old birds have gone to look for food. It poked its head out and saw the bright sunshine, green trees, and beautiful scenery on the earth; its little mind was suddenly filled with new ideas, and it brushed its feathers, flew to the branches, and released its praise of "nature" "The song comes. Its voice is full of clarity, lightness, and beauty. When singing, it seems that "nature" is listening with a smile. There were many children under the tree. When they heard the song, they all raised their heads and looked at it - this little bird came out to sing every day, and the children also came to listen to it every day, and finally they wanted to catch it.
It came out again! It was about to make a sound when suddenly, with a hiss, a marble shot from below. It turned over and fell from the tree. Two old birds flew towards it like arrows from the slanting thorns, caught it and carried it to the nest. Its blood fell drop by drop from the gaps in the trees to the ground.
The singing stopped from then on.
Those children wanted to look up at it and listen to its singing, but they couldn't.
Part 3 of Bing Xin’s short and beautiful prose selections: Laughter
The sound of rain gradually stopped, and clear light came faintly from behind the curtains. Open the window and take a look, ah! The cool clouds have dispersed, and the remaining drops on the leaves reflect the moon, like thousands of fluorescent lights, flickering and moving. ——I never expected that after the bitter rain and lonely lamp, there would be such a beautiful picture!
I stood by the window for a while, and felt a slight chill coming in. Turning around, I was suddenly dazzled. Everything else in the room was hidden in the light cloud; only the angel in the painting on the wall was immersed in the dim light. ——This angel in white is holding flowers, spreading her wings, and smiling slightly at me.
"This smile seems to have been seen somewhere before. When did I ever?" I unknowingly sat under the window and thought, - thinking silently.
The tightly closed curtain of my heart slowly opened, and an impression from five years ago emerged. ——A very long ancient road. The mud under the donkey's feet was slippery. The water in the ditch is gurgling. The green trees in the nearby village were all enveloped in wet smoke. The bow-like crescent moon hangs on the treetops. While walking, there seemed to be a child on the side of the road, holding a pile of bright white things. The donkey passed by and accidentally looked back. ——He was holding flowers, barefoot, and smiled slightly at me.
“It’s like I’ve seen this smile before somewhere!” I still thought—silently.
Another inner curtain emerged, slowly opening up, and an impression from ten years ago emerged. ——The rainwater under the thatched eaves fell on the clothes drop by drop. The water bubbles beside the earthen steps were swirling around. The wheat ridges and grape trellises in front of the door were brilliantly painted with vivid yellow and tender green. ——After a while, the rain finally cleared up, and I hurriedly walked downhill. When I saw the moon rising from the sea, I suddenly remembered that I had forgotten something, so I stopped and turned around. The old woman in this hut - she was leaning against the door, holding flowers, and smiling slightly at me. These same subtle expressions are like gossamers, floating together and tied together.
At this time, my heart was bright and clear, as if I had ascended to a fairyland, or returned to my hometown. The three smiles that appeared in front of me melted into the harmony of love and became indistinguishable.
A short article of 700 words, with no decoration or carving, just random touches, sketching three scenes: a little angel in the painting, a village girl on the roadside, An old woman in a hut, each holding a bouquet of flowers.
There is no sound, only three pictures. Three bouquets of white flowers set off the smile, sincere, pure and natural. However, in the silence, a soft and light lyrical music was clearly and vaguely heard. The sound of the violin is continuous and low, making people feel relaxed and swayed. They follow it into a peaceful and quiet world and are deeply intoxicated. When you look for it intently, the sound of the piano stops suddenly. At the end of the song, no one was seen, only three smiling faces and three bouquets of white flowers, the whole scene was ethereal. There seemed to be laughter floating in the ethereal space, far away or near, so soft, so sweet, and overflowing with pure love.