Unexpectedly, the next day in beginning of spring, after dinner, a light rain came to the spring date, which added a lot of joy to me who likes rain. I like rain, because I like the feeling of walking in the rain. Slightly inclined rain fell on my face, and there were many fresh smells in the air. Refreshing, refreshing, and suddenly enlightened. I suddenly had an impulse, so I propped up an umbrella and walked in the rain curtain.
The night is heavy, the street lamps are flashing, and they emit soft light in the rain and fog, like the affectionate eyes of lovers. All kinds of lights, some like strung stars, some like patches of colorful clouds, some bent into rainbows, some in full bloom in the air like flowers, all show their elegance between heaven and earth, adding a lot of charm to the night in this city. Walking on the bridge, watching the reflection of the lights, listening to the sound of raindrops falling, beating the concrete floor with high heels, let the mood flow with the rain. The passing cars whizzed by ... no one would disturb my thoughts, and my heart was quiet. I like peace and enjoy loneliness in peace. Tonight, for me, there is a different comfort.
The sound of raindrops falling on the ground is so soft that it catches my heart and reminds me of that romantic story ... can anyone listen to the rain with me tonight? There is no trace of wings left in the sky crossed by wild geese, but lingering thoughts have long been engraved on my heart, and my affectionate eyes are still looking around. The pink dream is still spreading in my heart, and the lost time is always so sad. I walked aimlessly under the street lamp, not knowing where to go, but all the way forward.
A little rain, continuous rain, falls around me, like an invisible net ... In a trance, there seems to be a voice that seems to fall from the sky, deja vu, but I can't tell what it is, causing hidden worries and drifting over my ears. Gradually, I understood that it was a sad poem "Two Springs Reflecting the Moon" that I had heard many times, floating in the rain, as if telling passers-by about the past.
On this cold rainy night, when I heard this exciting voice, I was in a trance with a quiet spring, a cold moon and a cold radiance, which evoked people's infinite thoughts. ...
Who plays this water-like melody on this rainy night?
When we reached the intersection in front, it was just a red light. Under the red lamppost, an old artist was sitting alone in the street. He is wearing a pair of sunglasses, but I can still see from the side that his eyes have been closed. On that bronzed face, wrinkles are full of vicissitudes of life. No smile, no sadness. Very quiet, very quiet. It seems that only his hands and feet can move. With the pull of his hand, the crying notes flowed into the air, spreading outward like smoke and fog, condensing into cold raindrops, sprinkled on the faces of passers-by and flowing into their hearts.
Watching his right foot step on something I can't name rhythmically, stepping on a rhythmic sound, accompanied by a sad song, gently knocking on my heart.
Less than a foot away from his right foot, there is a shabby mug that looks so lonely. It stung my eyes like a knife, at least it was so out of proportion to beautiful music.
But every passerby is in a hurry, everyone is on the road, and his face is as cold as ice and snow.
Why is the old man still performing in the street on such a cold rainy night? Does he have any relatives? If so, where are they? If not, then why not?
Few people will notice his existence like me. As soon as the green light is on, people and traffic begin to rush forward without being outdone, and no one wants to stay at the end.
My heart tells me what I should do for him. But just as my hand reached into my pocket, a strange psychology was at work, making my feet as heavy as a thousand miles and I couldn't take a step. The previous light footsteps began to solidify at that moment, like pouring cement.
Why am I timid, because the world is cold, or because of something else, I can't seem to understand myself. I just stood there, looking awkward in the crowd.
In hesitation, my eyes lit up in an instant, because a young figure jumped into my eyes. Although his body is so thin, it gives people a kind of warmth in this rainy night.
He had a coin from Zhang Yiyuan in his hand, but just as he put it in the cup at the entrance, he seemed to play a joke on him. A brisk wind blew the coin to the wet ground.
The tender hand gently picked it up, wiped off the muddy water on it, put it back in the entrance cup, and then casually disappeared in the rain.
I can't help being warm in my heart. In my eyes, it obscures my vision like a mist. My eyes are as hot as a hand that brings a warm current to my heart in a rainy night.
Even if he doesn't pick up the little piece of paper, even if he walks away without a problem, no one will see it, because the old man who plays the piano can't see it at all, passers-by are in a hurry, and there are some indifferent faces everywhere, and no one will blame him.
But the young shadow, ignoring the people next to him, disappeared into the rain and fog like a gust of wind after all this. ...
The hand that picked up a piece of dirty paper money in the mud was printed in my heart. In this cold rainy night, let my cool heart swell with warmth and add a little beauty to this rainy night. I finally feel the breath of spring, after all, spring has come.
Why should I consider other people's eyes when I do a small thing? Then, my feet returned to nature and instantly became as light as before.
I walked gently to the old man playing erhu, put what I should put, and casually walked to the opposite green light. ...