The north wind, cold, solitary tree, trembling in the wind.
Where is he? My classmate told me, about a week before his death, was buried at sea. The wind at the door and his shadow, flash, and in my mind: he, a short hair, bright smile, big eyes. Now, the wind shouted his name, from the high streets and back lanes.
A few years ago, I entered the school, he met classmate. Two people with three squadron. Then he, grades and excellent quality, is a superior officers, I often get his advice. Second years, he seemed to change a person, often play truant, fight. Not long after, was expelled from school. When to go, his name wa. When to go, his name was left in my diary.
A few years later, I because of physical reasons quit school, shop boss. One day, a police car came to my students, talk about his past:
Originally, he is investigating several cases of black social cases, give up doing the opportunity to civil servants, mixed with black society, do the inside. From then on he, living on the streets, and Lanzi company, quietly endure family, social prejudice against him. After being betrayed, identity exposure, was eventually threw the dead sea. He realized his into the police oath: for Jay, death is also a male.
After listening to me, jealous. He walked, walked so brave, so heroic. Like a hero, go down to posterity.
Tonight, the wind, but my blood runs, in his name, wrote a word -- you are the most lovely people.