1. This is not a famous saying, but a good sentence, as follows:

I stood up bored, looked out the window at the confused mountain scenery in the thick fog, saw the hut under the Huangguoshu tree, and suddenly wanted to visit the little girl and her sick mother.

She drew a circle in front of her with her little hand, and finally pressed it on my hand: "We are all well!" " Obviously, this "everyone" also includes me. Tears swirled in my eyes ...

I walked slowly on the dark and humid mountain road with this clever little orange lamp. This hazy orange light can't really shine far, but the little girl's calm, brave and optimistic spirit inspired me, and I seem to feel that there is infinite light in front of me!

But since then, every Spring Festival, I think of that little orange lamp. Twelve years have passed, and the little girl's father must have come back early. Her mother must be well, too, right? Because we are all "good"!

Suddenly I heard the door of the outhouse creak open. After a while, I heard someone move the bamboo stool. I opened the curtain and saw a little girl, only about eight or nine years old, with a thin pale face, purple lips with cold, short hair, dressed in rags and barefoot sandals, boarding a bamboo stool and trying to pick up the telephone on the wall. When I saw that I seemed startled, I drew back my hand ...

The light of the fire gradually dimmed. I stood up to go, and she took me by the hand. She quickly took the big needle with hemp thread, put the small orange bowl around it relatively, like a small basket, and picked it with a bamboo stick. She also took a short wax head from the windowsill, lit it in it, and handed it to me, saying, "It's dark, the road is slippery, so this small orange lamp will shine you up the hill!"

2. Full text of Little Orange Lantern:

This happened more than ten years ago. One afternoon before the Spring Festival, I went to see a friend in the suburbs of Chongqing. She lived above the village office. Walking up a gloomy staircase, I entered a room with a square table, several bamboo stools and a telephone on the wall. Then I entered my friend's room, separated from the outside by a curtain. She was not at home, and there was a note on the table by the window, saying that she had to go out temporarily and told me to wait for her. I sat down at her desk and picked up a newspaper to read. Suddenly I heard the door of the outhouse creak open. After a while, I heard someone moving the bamboo stool. I opened the curtain and saw a little girl, only about eight or nine years old, with a thin pale face, purple lips with cold, short hair, dressed in shabby clothes and sandals barefoot, boarding a bamboo stool and trying to pick up the listener on the wall. Seeing that I seemed taken aback, I drew my hand back. I asked her, "Do you want to call? "As she climbed down the bamboo stool, she nodded and said," I want to go to XX Hospital and find Dr. Hu. My mother just vomited a lot of blood! "I asked,' Do you know the telephone number of XX Hospital? "She shook her head and said," I was just about to ask the telephone office ... "I quickly found the hospital number from the telephone book next to the machine, and then asked her," If I found the doctor, who should I invite him to? "She said," Just say that Wang Chunlin's family is ill and she will come. " I got through the phone, and she thanked me gratefully and left later. I grabbed her and asked, "Is your home far away? "She pointed out of the window and said," It's just under the big yellow fruit tree in the mountain nest, and it's just a short walk away. " He thumped, thumped, thumped and went downstairs. I went back to the back room, read the newspaper back and forth, and picked up a copy of Three Hundred Tang Poems. After reading it halfway, the sky became more and more gloomy, and my friend still didn't come back. Bored, I stood up, looked at the misty mountain scenery outside the window, saw the hut under the Huangguoshu tree, and suddenly wanted to visit the little girl and her sick mother. I went downstairs and bought some red oranges at the door, stuffed them in my handbag and walked along the uneven stone road to the door of the hut. I tapped on the board door, and just now the little girl came out and opened the door. When I looked up and saw me, I paused first, then smiled and beckoned me in. The room was small and dark, and it was covered with a board against the wall. Her mother was lying flat with her eyes closed. She was probably asleep, covered with blood stains on her head, and her face was turned upside down, only seeing the loose hair on her face and a big bun at the back of her head. There is a small charcoal stove by the door, and there is a small casserole on it, steaming slightly. The little girl asked me to sit on a small stool in front of the stove, and she squatted beside me and kept looking at me. I asked softly, "Has the doctor been here?" She said, "Yes, I gave my mother an injection ... She is fine now." She said as if to comfort me, "Don't worry, the doctor will come again tomorrow morning." I asked, "Has she eaten? What's in this pot? " She smiled and said, "Sweet potato porridge-our New Year's Eve." I remembered the oranges I brought, so I took them out and put them on the low table beside the bed. She didn't say anything, but reached for the biggest orange, peeled off a section of the skin on it with a small knife, and gently kneaded more than half of the bottom with both hands. I asked in a low voice, "Who else is in your family?" She said, "There is no one now, my father has gone outside ..." She didn't go on, but slowly took out a piece of orange petal from the insert and put it next to her mother's pillow. The dim light of the fire gradually dimmed, and the outside turned black. I stood up to go, and she took me by the hand. She quickly took the big needle with hemp thread, put the small orange bowl around it relatively, like a small basket, and picked it with a small bamboo stick. She also took a short wax head from the windowsill, lit it in it, and handed it to me, saying, "It's dark, the road is slippery, so this small orange lamp shines you up the hill!" "I took it appreciatively and thanked her. She saw me out of the door. I didn't know what to say. She said as if to comfort me, "My father will definitely come back soon. My mother will be fine then. " She drew a circle in front of her with her little hand, and finally received my hand: "We are all well!" " Obviously, this "everyone" also includes me. I walked slowly on the dark and humid mountain road with this clever little orange lamp. This hazy orange light can't really shine far, but the little girl's calm, brave and optimistic spirit inspired me, and I seem to feel that there is infinite light in front of me! My friend has come back, saw me carrying a small orange lamp, and asked me where I came from. I said, "From ... from Wang Chunlin's house." She said in surprise, "Wang Chunlin, the carpenter, how do you know him?" Last year, several students in Yamashita Medical College were taken away as * * * producers' party, and later Wang Chunlin also disappeared. It is said that he often delivered letters for those students ... "That night, I left the mountain village and never heard from the little girl and her mother again. But from then on, every Spring Festival, I think of that little orange lamp. Twelve years have passed, and the little girl's father must have come back early. She must be fine if she has a mother, right? Because we are all "good"!

3. Introduction to Little Orange Lantern:

Little Orange Lantern is one of the late representative works of Bing Xin. The article vividly depicts the image of a kind and strong peasant girl who longs for the light in the difficult life adversity. Starting from a small place, the author selects some ordinary things, such as a little girl making a phone call, looking after her mother, talking with me, and making a small orange lamp to send me. From the outside to the inside, from the shallow to the deep, the image of a poor rural girl who is precocious, strong, brave, optimistic, kind and full of inner beauty is vividly depicted. The lyrical text written by the author after the narrative is the crowning touch of the whole article, which deepens the theme and reveals the symbolic significance of the small orange lamp-a symbol of hope and fire hidden in the hearts of the people and a symbol of light. The article "Little Orange Lantern" not only inherits the characteristics of early works, but also shows Bing Xin's accusation against old China and her love for new China, which makes her works inject new and energetic spiritual strength.

4. Introduction of Bing Xin:

? Bing Xin (October 5, 19-February 28, 1999), female, originally named Xie Wanying, was born in Changle, Fujian, and was a member of China Association for the Promotion of Democracy (DPP). [1]? China poet, modern writer, translator, children's literature writer, social activist and essayist. The pen name Bing Xin is taken from "A piece of Bing Xin is in the jade pot". In the Morning Post in August, 1919, Bing Xin published his first essay "Thoughts on the 21st Hearing" and his first novel "Two Families". Before and after studying abroad in 1923, he began to publish a series of communication essays with the general title of "To Young Readers", which became the foundation work of China's children's literature. In 1946, she was hired by Tokyo University as the first foreign female professor to teach "China New Literature" and returned to China in 1951. At 21: 12 on February 28th, 1999, Bing Xin died in Beijing Hospital at the age of 99, and was called "the old man of the century".