Tofu

The blue-handed private foods -- the day of Ping and Wave's wedding anniversary in tears, lived together for ten years, far from being as beautiful as they imagined when they were young. It seems that the anniversary has not been celebrated for a long time. In the first few years, the waves remembered this special day, and the short-term beauty and freshness of the marriage always allowed him to come up with one of those surprises to make Ping happy. A bunch of flowers, a dinner, a gift, a little love song to remember... At that time, Ping always smiled and enjoyed what she thought was right. After graduation, they sell in a private enterprise and are teachers in a second-rate private school. They're both on low wages and live tight. The wave once said to Ping, "Dear, I will make you happy and happy forever and ever as a princess." Ping Yi is in the arms of the waves, eating special-priced apples from the supermarkets, smiling sweetly, and seeing vision and beauty. In her view, this former boyfriend, the current husband, will fulfil this wonderful promise as if she had been married. That's the way it is. It's always fresh. As age grows, so does the reality. We have always found ourselves in a short period of excitement that we cannot live forever in the beauty of imagination. Turns out the woody oil salt, the people of the world could easily extinguish the beauty of their dreams and exhaust them. They bought a small house of their own; their first child was born; the child was going to kindergarten; the child was going to primary school; the co-worker was married; the co-worker was promoted ... Every time it belonged to himself or someone else, there would be a long or short economic crisis after a short period of happiness. Waves do not work as they should, and brutal market competition will always be known and, unfortunately, one of them. At the age of 30, the monthly salary is paid and the school fees of the children are barely covered. Each month's sales wrap-up is his most difficult day, watching young or mature sales elites on stage depicting their feats generously, always smoking cheap cigarettes with their heads down. After each such meeting, waves will not attend the post-session dinner. He's always looking for a small restaurant, a plate of peanut rice, a ten-dollar sip, a bottle of a few-dollar bottle of white wine, drunk, and when he comes home, he'll have a big fight with Ping. Ping would normally only shed tears and bear them in silence. Ping can't live like a princess. After a hard day of teaching, she had to rush to the dirty market for vegetables and bargain with the obscenity of small vendors, who might not be the freshest but always the most generous food. Then you rush to the school and wait for her child. And then you rush home to wash and make rice. Ping had to prepare two lunches every day. That was her lunch the day after the wave, which was simple and always a lot of vegetarians with little poor meat. Next, cleaning up, washing clothes ... Tired is the only feeling of Ping. Wearyness also directly affects the quality of her work, the perception of disgruntled leadership, and parents ' wanton complaints, which leave her with the same age. Yesterday, on the evening of winter, the snow was heavy and it was dark early. Ping jumped out of the market and slipped. All the special-priced eggs just bought are gone, and the thick yellow is sore in the snow. Ping looks at himself and tears can't stop running. In that young age, she imagined more than once that she would live a life that would be like a noble woman, dressed in fine fur, sitting in an elegant garden with coffee and wine, full of joy and happiness. She may never have thought of herself, as she is now, in an old coat that is old, tired and sad, sitting outside the dirty market and crying... Come home, bein' too busy to clean herself up and be in the kitchen because the child is hungry. It's a wrap-up day. Waves don't come home for dinner. After eating, as usual, Ping is busy, busy. Time is particularly easy to pass by in the middle of the day, and it's 10:00 in the night. The keys, the breath of wine, came in, went to the couch, full of complaints and dirty words. Ping looked at the man who once thought he could live a lifetime and promised to let her live like a princess, so down, such a mess, like a wall's mud, with a heart cut like a knife, and a long-defeated volcano. And she was smitten and cursed, like a mad woman. One night wept, one night wept and wept and wept. Today, as usual, there are lessons, food, children and home. As soon as I got in the door, I got stuck. Several hot dishes have been put on the table: pepper fried meat, sour potatoes, fried eggs for herbs, red sashimi, iron tofu, and a bottle of her favorite, but unaffordable, fruit orange. The waves, with traces of the scratches that were scratched yesterday, filled with guilt, came to pick up the dishes and bags in the hands of Ping: “Honey, eat”. Ping suddenly felt that the man who was drunk yesterday was still so gentle and full of dirty talk. The waves set up the kids, opened the dining chair for Pyle, turned around and took a bunch of lilies out of the room: “Honey, this is our tenth anniversary anniversary, and I love you.” Tears flow unwittingly, but the smile on Ping's face is so sweet and so sweet. lily is her favorite flower, and it is their affair. Iron tofu, the favorite snack of her teenage age, when he was cold and tired as long as he was cozy, the waves would go and buy it for her. She no longer hears guilt-ridden confessions, nor does she remember the sorrows that weary her. "Honey, stop crying." The wave swam the tears of the face and held her in her arms. "Wip, this is the second time in my life that I've cried, the first time at a wedding. From now on, you can't make me cry, even if I cry. We'll go together in this life." We're all red dust people, people with woody oil salt. I have longed for a thousand years before the Buddha for this look of my life. Meet you in this life is the greatest happiness I've ever had. Though the path of love has been difficult, our lives are full of bumps and bumps. Those quarrels, those crying, those pains, those helpless, can't separate us. We'll stick together, won't we? Let's make a joint wish this bridge season: this life together! And even if they cry, they cry. And the hearts of the Chus are blue, and they wish that there will be a lover in the world, who will never be left behind, who will be with one another and who will be with one another。