March is a great time for the three suns in early spring. In a world full of spring, what I gain is not hope, but despair over the death of a brother. In March, I have the unforgettable longing for my brothers. Maybe at this moment, he is smiling at me with the same bright smile, but I will never see it. Feeling grateful for my brothers in the spring-like March.
In March, which is like spring, I think of the fireworks in Yangzhou City in March in the dust of history; I think of the pipa girl leaning on the railing of the building by the Qinhuai River, with her face half covered; I think of the flying catkins hanging down. In Yangxi Lake, people in Lunjin sip tea and talk and laugh with scholars... I believe that the bustling streets have long been covered with moss, and perhaps they are beyond recognition, and the shouts of the past have been drowned out in their hometown.
March is a story of spring. A few early birds are singing, breaking the tranquility of the village. That's all, that's all, everything has long been settled. Ancient things. Those abandoned corners, and perhaps dilapidated remains. Many things in ancient and modern times have been discussed and laughed at. All the past only exists in the mind. The Beijing-Hangzhou Canal has long been a part of history, but Yangzhou in March is no longer what it was back then. The banks of the Qinhuai River are already lined with high-rise buildings. Perhaps there are many tourists visiting Jiangnan gardens and enjoying Longjing beside the West Lake.
The past cannot be traced back, and the spring rain is still falling outside the window as thin as cow hair. Leaning on the corridor of the board house, the entire mixing station was shrouded in layers of mist, and only the immediate surroundings could be seen. The surrounding hills are quiet, the trees are quiet, and the machines in the mixing station are also quiet. It seems that everything is in spring sleep, and everything is still resting comfortably. The raindrops falling from the eaves are dripping down, and the sound quality is well-spaced, but at this time, it is so clear and not boring.
The spring breeze, spring rain, and spring rain make people sad, and the flowers bloom and fall, and they are full of sorrow. People always say that the weather in summer is like a child's face, it changes at will. But the weather in spring is even more naughty and stubborn than that child. Sometimes spring is in full bloom, giving you a glimpse of spring warmth and spending time, and spontaneously giving rise to hope for the year. Sometimes it rains continuously, or it rains non-stop, making the roads muddy and making you feel upset. Or maybe a late spring cold has arrived, which makes you struggle to put on winter clothes. What's worse is that the washed clothes will not dry and will become smelly. The spring in the south will also come to "return to the southern sky". If you open the window, you will feel the sweat on the walls and the damp floor...
I always like to meet up with friends in the afternoon sun and have a bath. Serve a pot of Qilan. On the field in front of the house, enjoy the spring scenery of the garden attracting bees and butterflies. Yes, in the spring in my hometown, the fields are full of green, and the green is a little green. Of course, the delicate peach blossoms and the thousands of pear blossoms are indispensable. The spring in my hometown does not need any decoration or disguise. The spring thunder bursts endlessly, and the bamboo shoots behind the spring thunder are young and tender, as well as the bracken and the big white mushrooms.
In any case, I hate this spring and March. This spring, she took away my brother without any hesitation, without any warning, leaving nothing behind. Her tenderness and charm are covered by a pair of cruel hands. I beat her hard, hoping she wouldn't come. Like spring's hope, I have become desperate. It’s been fifteen days, and I don’t know where my brother is now, or how many stops there are in his journey. Colorful flowers were sending her away, and the spring breeze was blowing on his face, but I stood helplessly looking eastward...
There were no documents, no guests, only the rain outside the window listening to my story and talking to me. Sit and listen. I fell into reverie, thinking of home, old friends, and my brothers... Everything is as far away as the moon in the sky but still seems like yesterday. Thinking of my illness last year, I stayed with me and supported me in the cold wind in the middle of the night. I really hope that the street will be longer and the hospital will be further away...
My brother has passed away and I don’t know when he will return.
In March, a spring-like longing floated in the air... -