Best recommendations for Chengdu tea tasting private WeChat 2022

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The dark clouds were like smoke, pressing heavily towards the ground. It was a pitch-dark cold night, and there was a group of refugees who had left their homes. The wind howled strangely in the valley, and everyone who was traveling with them was terrified. In recent months, the war has intensified. When the city was on fire, the innocent people were affected, forcing the civilians to move to neighboring countries. Marching with the team was an old man with gray hair and wrinkles all over his face. The dust raised by the war sank into his wrinkles, making him look even more old and decadent. He leaned on a wooden stick and moved forward with difficulty. There was only a small bag on my back.

"We're here! We're here!" There was a quiet commotion among the crowd, and the suffering people finally saw a glimmer of hope. The checkpoint ahead is the border between the two countries. The garrison soldiers ordered everyone entering to leave their luggage behind to prevent anyone from bringing in weapons and disrupting national defense. The team moved forward slowly, and the luggage piled up into a small mountain. The old man walked to the entrance and obediently dropped his bag and stick. However, his old hands, though wrinkled and thin as eagle claws, tightly held a small bag of things.

"Put it down! Put it down!" the guard shouted angrily, "What are you pretending to be?"

The old man said nothing, but held the cloth bag tightly in his hand. He leaned forward and wanted to go inside, but the guard was unwilling to let him go! The soldier waved his hand casually, and in the mist of dust, the contents of the package scattered out. The old man sat down on the ground dejectedly, his eyes red and about to cry, but the flying sand made his eyes dry, his body trembled slightly, his lips trembled, he muttered to himself, and then suddenly shouted: "What is this? What is this? This is just a cup of yellow soil from my hometown!"

People looked at each other in silence.

Yes, who hasn’t thought about guarding their homeland? To watch over our homeland is to watch over the roots of the trees we climbed when we were young that provided us with nutrients! To guard the hometown is to guard the mud that made your mother scold you in your childhood! To guard the hometown is to guard the marble game played many years ago! To guard the homeland is to guard the arms of a loving mother who will always accept you sincerely as always!

Fallen leaves return to their roots, and people die and return to the earth. The land is steady, breathing in and out; the land is silent, recording the history of coming and going; the land is quiet, silently sighing at the ups and downs of the world. Silence is better than words at this moment, everything is implied. In the past, Taizhen looked east and saw smoke and dust. Today, she wakes up from her dream and looks back and sees her hometown.

To watch over the hometown is actually to watch over the home that is hard to give up. The watch over the homeland is integrated into the blood, becomes the source of unremitting struggle from generation to generation, becomes a complex, and settles into a collective unconscious, just like the old man who is obsessed with his hometown.

The land of my hometown still reminds me of my master. Guarding our homeland forever!