Chapter 115: ** Love (4)

(4) My name

I can't tell which is yours and which is my message.,I want to know that your name is what I've made public.,It shouldn't have been written by me.,I want to know that your one qiē isn't what I'm thinking now.。

I'm starting to dare not know your qiē. During the kiss, I couldn't hear the director shouting to stop. My heart is entangled with tears, and I confess my true feelings to you, I just want to die at that moment, turn into white bones and hug each other tightly, and return to dust like a shadow.

When I said the lines, it was no longer the lines, but I cherished the words I didn't dare to say in my heart, and I closed my desolate eyes and mourned the end of a scene.

At the beginning of the last scene, you start to suffer from gains and losses, start to be picky, start to tamper with your lines, as if you want me to understand that you don't care about acting badly, you have taken it seriously. Well, look at my name. It's a true story of my family.

(My Name)

My father's name to me was 11 words: Warivaru A. Nata Hei Zhima.

First of all, the sound of the first word "tile" is a little more similar to "wo". None of the others can be written in homophonic Chinese characters, all of them are just relatively approximate pronunciations.

The meaning of the name is even more unreasonable, it is "the daughter of the sea god of the left sea".

My father said that Zuosuohai is Lugu Lake. That's not worthy of the name, it's the daughter of the lake, take the name of the sea, no wonder I will have so many disasters!

Like the names of my two younger brothers, you will not find Chinese characters, they are the sons of the mountain gods of Gongga Mountain and Pulang Mountain. They are called Gonggaro and Purangro. Simple and loud.

The altitude of Gongga Mountain is more than 7,000 meters, and the snow-covered peaks are often reflected in the burning clouds. Mount Prang is the mountain where the ancestral treasure is buried, and it should be in some fold of the Hengduan Mountains. When someone tries to dig it, it causes earthquakes and tsunamis. Buried 30 kilometers below the surface of the earth, near the silicon-magnesium layer of the mantle, there was a night pearl in it that shone like a fluorescent lamp, illuminating me as I flipped through the books my ancestors had read.

I was able to climb into that hole only when I weighed less than forty kilograms, and fell like a feather to the edge of the mantle.

When I got tired of reading, I crawled on the book and fell asleep. When I woke up, I was in front of the pile of used books in a Chinese bookstore. There was a book that shimmered with gold. When I pulled it out, it looked like it was the book of my ancestors I had just read.

She took his hand tenderly. But he wished he hadn't gone anywhere. He felt as if he was with other people,

She'll be taken away. But he still followed her. As he stepped through the door, he felt as if it compelled to ask his lover,

Tell her not to mention what happened between them. He felt that in his present state of intoxication, he could only have nothing to do with her

To be true, they have lost the ability to explain and explain to others.

After marriage, when I weighed less than 40 kilograms, I rarely had to come and feed me personally. He took my book and flipped through it: Can you really read it? The preface to the publication says that it is a German novel, an ordinary novel written by the Nobel Prize winner in literature in 1910.

You go to the library and borrow all the Chinese translations of Paul Heizer. I said anxiously.

It's useless, what you see is definitely different from what others translate. Maybe it hasn't been translated yet. Brush your teeth and keep dreaming. He said.

It was a young girl dressed in the costume of a girl from the village of Purang, with a red vest tightly bound to her newly mature breasts,

The waistcoat was topped with a lace ruffled collar, and a flat white turban pinned to the braid was pinned with a huge silver pin, but it was not covered

The shape of her head, where she reflects youth, beauty and demureness. Her face was glowing like a blooming bud

and health. Only that little mouth exudes shyness and restraint, and it can even be said to have a certain resigned sadness...

Her swarthy face was always burning with two red clouds, and she was as chaste as the blood of a living Buddha......