夜幕下的这条河像一块墨色的璧,月光投下一汪明晃晃的虚幻。我猫起腰捡起一颗扁平的石块用力地贴着水面扔了出去。老八还在我身边絮叨:“你想,要等我把画画学出来,我爸得跑多少车,老成什么样啊。”河边是有马路的,只是这个时候路上早已没了车,于是那 Night under the river like an inky Bi, the moon cast a shining illusory illusion. I picked up the cat from the waist and lifted a flat stone and forced it out to the water. The old eight is still around me talking about: “You want to wait until I learn to draw, my dad had to run how many cars, what kind of old ah. ” The river is a road, but this time the road already gone That’s the car