Different styles of prose

There was a sudden gale last night, and the clothes on the balcony were propped up by the gale like a kite with a broken line, floating unsupported. Some have been unable to resist the raging wind and have fallen onto the balcony. My roommate hurried to the balcony to close the aluminum alloy window, which was easy to close and blocked the wind and rain outside. But you can still hear the roar of the wind whistling past. A series of thunderous door closing sounds came from outside the dormitory, constantly reminding people that today is beginning of winter, and the footsteps of winter have come to this province, which is known as the stove. The weather here is always so extreme. After the hot summer, people can't enjoy the mild climate of autumn, and have ushered in a cold winter.

Later, raindrops hit the window, forming a drop of water, then gathered in one place and quickly slipped down. There is a constant sound of water from the drain pipe on the roof. Tell us how heavy the rain is. The white light of the energy-saving lamp on the head illuminates the bedroom that has become dark due to wind and rain, and drives away a little bit of chill. The light left our usual silhouette on the gray and cold concrete floor.

Listening to the rain outside, I can't help thinking of the beautiful flowers whose names were only known a few days ago. In such extreme weather, how will those flowers that need careful care be destroyed? I always pass by that flower on my way to school.

Someone asked: What kind of flower is that? How can there be two colors? One is pink and the other is white. Is that kapok?

Someone immediately retorted: kapok is that kind of big red, as dazzling as fire. Is that pink flower as white as the golden flower of honeysuckle? It is the phenomenon that life dies after a night.

No. You see, the bud of that flower is pink and white, which is different from honeysuckle. It has two colors.

It was not until one day that the school put a sign on every tree that it knew it was hibiscus mutabilis. Everyone was surprised: this is hibiscus mutabilis, which is not pretty at all. The petals feel all together, too tight. Everyone nodded in agreement.

The next day, nature did not stop entering winter. There are still many small raindrops in the sky, which fall into the large and small puddles left on the ground by a rain last night. Then gather in one place, causing more water. Walking out of the dormitory door with an umbrella, a gust of wind mixed with drizzle made people shudder. On the way, I think what I saw must be a scene of flowers fading. Unexpectedly, there are hibiscus standing on the branches, holding their heads high and facing the drizzle. After last night's rain, hibiscus flowers did not appear withered, but let the tight petals bloom. The whole flower seems to emerge from the water and looks crystal clear. In particular, the nectar overflowing between heaven and earth fills the stamens, and the whole flower is like a pearl, and the hibiscus presents a different style. No wonder Li Bai will leave clear water to leave hibiscus, and naturally carve poems. Natural and pure rain between heaven and earth carves out flowers that fall into the mortal world.

The unexpected wind and rain in the sky carved a different style under the nourishment of hibiscus rain, and people's misfortune and happiness also carved a different life style.