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A quiet river flows slowly through this plain and this black land, and then flows peacefully into Zhalong Nature Reserve, the hometown of red-crowned cranes. At the same time, this lovely river has nurtured the people on both sides of the strait, nurtured the black soil culture here, and brushed away the desolation of the former Great Northern Wilderness. On the north bank of the middle reaches of the river, there is such a big village, and a story that touches us is happening in the village.
This is a winter. Not too cold, but a little gloomy. At four o'clock in the afternoon, a bus staggered from the road and slowly stopped across the bridge. A young man came out of the car, carrying a big suitcase and wearing a military uniform. He is of medium height, big and strong, but his face is slightly dark, but he is also handsome. This is the hero I want to talk about, Tian Shuangquan, who retired and went home. He got on the bridge with his suitcase and stopped to look at both sides. Under the bridge is the Wuyuer River, which has been frozen thick, just like a white dragon stretching into the distance. Not far from the north of the river is Happiness Village. He took out his cigarette, lit it and took a sip, then looked at the long-lost river.
At this time, a little girl riding a bicycle came to the village, about thirteen or fourteen years old, wearing a brand-new red down cotton-padded jacket. It turned out that my niece Xiaoru had come to pick herself up. catch ...