我趴在书桌上奋笔疾书,护眼灯发出柔和的光,把我的剪影投在雪白的墙壁上。窗外,是蓝宝石般的夜空,淡淡的月光透过窗户洒在阳台上,碎碎的,仿佛一块无法拼合的布。不远处的钟楼敲出九个悠远的音符,我的笔在手中挥舞,仿佛一只蝶,只可惜,她跳不出翩跹的舞蹈,而是杂乱得不成舞步……“小婧,写完了吗?” I lay on the desk to write an excuse me, the eye-catching light emitting soft, my silhouette cast on the white walls. Out the window, sapphire night sky, a faint moonlight sprinkled through the window on the balcony, broken, like a piece of cloth can not be combined. Not far from the clock tower knocking out nine distant notes, my pen waving in my hand, as if a butterfly, but unfortunately, she can not dance graceful dance, but not clothed dance ... ... “Little Jing, write Is it finished?”