Sometimes, people can do their best for one thing.

—— Text/Wang Xinyi, the champion of liberal arts in Shaanxi college entrance examination in 2009

This is a precious memory hidden in my heart, which I will never forget. In the face of adversity, I told myself again and again that the future is far away. So those dreams in my heart have never been erased.

Really brave, dare to face the bleak life.

I know I walked into a cage.

Like the adherents of the ancient Chu State, like their doctor San Lv, they wore spears, cut clouds, drank dew and ate food, and lost their lives. They have the pride of a dry cloud and are full of poems, but they can only let the dust cover them white and bow their heads and walk into the cage.

All the young and frivolous students in senior three turned into great irony at the moment when the scores were released in 2008. I once vowed that even in senior three, it is not worth giving up all my interests and ideals for a thin score, so I added more than 30 thousand words a year to my novel. But when I really saw the score, I knew that the computer screen would not understand your despair, nor would it understand the sadness when sentencing. At that moment, I longed for the lake and tower shadow in my dream for more than ten years, so far away from me.

No one will think that I failed the list. In the face of all people's consternation and regret, I know that it is unexpected and reasonable, and everything can only be borne by myself.

I don't care about my mood. Sadness is an unattainable luxury for me. I don't go out, I don't answer the phone, I don't reply to text messages, I don't surf the Internet, and I refuse everyone's concern and comfort.

Then repeat, if you still have a dream in your heart, if you are unwilling to face failure for 18 years.

My parents don't approve of my repeating. My mother is afraid that I can't bear it psychologically. My father even thought that in my careless state in senior three, there would be no result in repeating reading, only worse than the first time. For two months, there was a strong smell of gunpowder in the house. My father and I have been fighting and arguing about who is right and who is wrong. Tears always replace all the desires that can be vented. Outside the window, the summer sun shines brightly, and my friends are enjoying their longest and best holidays all over the country.

In the end, I won. As my mother told me later, no one can change my decision. They have known since childhood.

I once hesitated to go back to my old class.

In my opinion, those who are willing to repeat are brave, and those who are willing to come to our class to repeat are the real brave. Those who have come to our class for one year, knowing the darkness and hardships, and are willing to do it again can only be described as saints. In senior four, countless times, everyone sighed and said to me after handing in the papers, you are so brave. How did you have the courage to come back and suffer again? I am also exhausted, sighing that I don't know. I must be crazy.

What's too bitter to eat?

If a fish drinks water, it knows itself well.

The study and life of senior four can be summed up in this sentence.

In the eyes of classmates, repeat students are always happier than them. You can play truant, ask for leave, be late, leave early, attend classes, hand in your homework and get high marks all the time. What is there to worry about?

Yes, if you haven't experienced such a failure, if you haven't seen countless students who have never surpassed you in the model exam strut into the university with better college entrance examination results than you, you will never have a chance to turn over-because you will never compete on the same platform again. If you don't come back to see new students like newborn calves, they can still get higher scores than you.

The fear of questioning one's own value will never be understood by children who have not re-read. I hope you will never understand it all your life.

Last winter, I participated in Peking University's self-recruitment again, and I was deeply disappointed again after my hope was ignited. I gave up on her first last summer, and she immediately sentenced me to change my mind with an unprecedented dismal score. So I came back to start all over again, hoping to help, and then I was sad and depressed, but I always had the most self-deceiving little comfort in my heart: this is my unfinished relationship with her, and I still have a chance to chase her after all. Unexpectedly, she gave up on me this time. On the day when she knew that she had failed the written test, I cried from noon 12 to early morning 1 2, thinking repeatedly that I should only belong to Peking University. Is this just a fragile and shallow joke I heard since I was a child? Is it because Peking University didn't decide to retaliate against me in the most cruel way when I filled in my volunteer? I can't see a ray of light on this road. Can I still insist?

But the retreat has been cut off by myself.

I remember listening to my sister, who is also a repeat student, saying that all repeat students are standing still, without change or progress, so I can sleep when everyone is listening to the class and read novels when everyone is doing problems. What's wrong with it?

I swear, if I am like her, I will get extra points for my self-recruitment. From that moment on, I will be a happy person, and I will never wronged myself with steamed buns and pancakes again-that was my lunch and dinner for nearly a year, in order to save time. But I am not as good as her, so I will work harder. I leave the classroom from 12: 30 to 12: 45 at noon. Everyone is asleep, and I have a class. When everyone is reading a novel, I want to do the problem. It is no longer for the sake of achievement, but to keep dignity in mind anyway.

If you do it again, you won't be able to eat anything bitter.

I am used to staying alone in the classroom at noon and sitting late in the study room. At noon 12: 30 and in the morning 12: 30, these two distant hours accompany me every day, and there is always no one around. A never-ending exercise at hand is like a story that no one listens to, knowing it is useless, but not wanting to stop.

I'm always absent-minded in the interval between doing the exercises, thinking about some absurd and rambling things, the sad poems I recited, the back of my friends who turned away, the light songs and laughter I used to sing, the Chang 'an moon I looked up at after school at night, the city that experienced glory and pain, the cultural heritage of the motherland, the lack of life, the long-lost sadness and the invisible riverside.

Smile at people, cough behind your back, and be lazy when you are sick.

Always sad.

And then I thought, Just as high school was not supposed to be a trek, I pursued it in the cold Yuan Ye without hesitation. If you fail, consider this journey as an even impossible farewell, just for the deepest love in your life, but it won't last long.

The "it" here has long gone beyond the definition of Peking University, but my own self-commitment and self-expectation, as well as my indelible dream in adversity.

So I struggled on the endless road of senior four, hiding all the pain and still smiling at everyone.

Let's fight this time.

Fortunately, I have a group of classmates who can rely on each other.

When the ship capsized and the sea changed, we were a group of withered and lonely people who cared about each other.

We study together, live together, have the same spirit, just like comrades in the same trench. The competition between us has also been covered by the feeling of mutual pity into a slightly warm temperature, and it has become a different mood to enrich the memory.

There are also roommates in the dormitory, the closest "comrades-in-arms", the immortal mansion in heaven, and the 305 dormitory on earth. This is a couplet I wrote for my dormitory when I was teasing. We unexpectedly gained happiness in this small space.

No one can tell how much we have paid. I only know that the people in the study room of our dormitory are always the longest. We passed the first place in the grade five times together, and passed the top five and top ten countless times. The six of us finally got together in Beijing, two from Peking University and two from Tsinghua. We gave up too much for our dreams.

Every time I go back to the dormitory, I will look up at the downstairs to see if there is any light in our window. For example, if the lights are on for a year, it will be warm as home. I always come back late, but even when the lights are dark, I never panic, because I know that when you open the door of the study room, you must be there.

What I remember most is the big window of Chaoyang 305. Every morning, people who come back from shopping will open the curtains to wake everyone up. When they opened their eyes, the sunshine filled the whole room, and the pain of the long night turned into the warmth of their eyes. I remember my favorite lyrics over and over again. Every day I open my eyes and see you and sunshine here. This is the future I want.

We are a group of fish in the dry river, and every group of dry rivers has a dream of forgetting the rivers and lakes, but before that, we can only fight for the rivers and lakes by our own efforts.

I think of my head teacher, Mr. Sun, for no reason, and I think of my gnashing senior three and grateful senior four. This is like a ridiculous virtual reality: I hope that when I am in the most difficult time, someone will always be by my side, never giving up, sincerely rejoicing for my every progress and comforting my every loss. As long as I see him, I will have the courage to go on and laugh happily. I always thought there was no such person, but later I found out that this person was always there, but he was my class teacher.

He once handed out papers amid the complaints of all his classmates, and stood on the platform like a mountain in the violent shaking of the earthquake to calm everyone's fear and despair. He made countless students feel his kindness after graduation. However, what I miss about him is that he said to me in a private conversation: Wang Xinyi, let's fight this time.

Let's fight this time.

Looking back on the hectic years in high school, people were overstaffed. However, this sentence has always impressed me and illuminated my future. I think, sometimes, people can do their best for one thing.

Closing remarks

A rolling stone gathers no moss. Many beautiful things often become eternal after the vicissitudes of the soul. Then it's over. I have been in Yanyuan, in Weiming Lake for more than ten years. I wish everyone well and the road ahead is picturesque.