Cai Mingliang does not look like a literary director. Round head, round eyes, big nose and thick lips, oily skin. He was always laughing, with a big mouth that seemed to grin to the base of his ears. Not really cool.
Teenage Nezha, long live love, river. It stands to reason that the trilogy of water, whether it is story, emotion or connotation, has a progressive meaning. I prefer the simplest first one.
The bright sunshine, the scorching hot skin. Permanently clogged drains, floating soda cans and plastic slippers. Watermelons full of moisture on the street corners, cicadas chirping outside the mats and screens. In summer, it is really suitable to be an aimless wanderer in a city. Xiaokang repaid the tuition fees of the cram school and became a wanderer, and his eyes became keyholes to peep into the world.
Ximending Center is always crowded and bustling. The streets are full of traffic, the colorful neon lights of advertisements, the background music of the arcade game hall, a kind of unshakable happiness is lost, and everyone can never enter other people's lives.
Xiaokang looks so weird. The triangular eyes locked by the brows, the eye sockets are tight, and the eyes are scattered. Stubbornness and confusion count against the clock. Limbs swayed and wobbled, like a grandfather clock in disrepair and a doll with a broken joint. It's too mediocre, with thin eyebrows, a student's head, plain old-style clothes, a lean body, and sluggish movements. Throwing it into the crowd, it probably disappeared immediately, without any brilliance. The tired, numb, and empty expression of this teenage boy was tiresome.
A Rong is captivating. There was light in his eyes, and his bare chest encased the humid, sultry summer. The endearing sideburns and the beard that has just emerged from the chin echo the bright and burning eyes. The plaid shirt swelled as the locomotive galloped, like a port after a tornado. Such a person can't be forgotten by Xiaokang, and naturally Agui can't forget it either. Girls are always in love.
Xiaokang, who followed A Rong to the hotel, looked down from the hotel window. A Rong, who had always been unrestrained and unrestrained, was furious and beat and kicked the motorcycle that he had damaged. He jumped high without warning and gave a weird, high-pitched laugh. Simmons' elasticity made him jump so high that his head hit the ceiling, and he curled up on the bed in pain. Wearing a pair of white underwear, his skin is dark, his limbs are long and weak, and his head is like a pile of weeds. I heard him say: "I was in a place, and I heard a voice shouting: This universe is pure nothingness, it is a substandard, and the pleasure dies of existence itself, and the universe appears empty."
A Rong and A Gui Yunyu, speechless, went back to the game room to play the electric motor, and the flickering cold light hit the blurred outline.
We often "take empty gestures as real, forced choices as real choices.
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