Jenny was the only child in her family. She had a quarrel (吵架) with her mother that afternoon and she ran out of the house angrily. She couldn’t help weeping sorrowfully when she thought of the scolding from her mother. Having wandered aimlessly in the street for hours, she felt a little hungry and wished for something to eat. She stood beside a stand (货摊) for a while, watching the middle-aged seller busy doing his business. However, with no money in hand, she gave a sigh and had to leave.

The seller behind the stand noticed the young girl and asked, “Hey, girl, you want to have the noodles?”

“Oh, yes, but I don’t have money on me.” she replied.

“That’s nothing. I’ll treat you today,” said the man, “Come in.”

The seller brought her a bowl of noodles, whose smell was so attractive. As she was eating, Jenny cried silently.

“What is it?” asked the man kindly.

“Nothing. Actually, I was just touched by your kindness!” said Jenny as she wiped her tears. “Even a stranger on the street will give me a bowl of noodles, while my mother drove me out of the house. She showed no care for me. She is so merciless compared to a stranger!”

Hearing the words, the seller smiled, “Girl, do you really think so? I only gave you a bowl of noodles and you thanked me a lot. But it is your mother who has raised you since you were a baby. Can you remember the times she cooked for you? Have you expressed your gratitude to her?”

Jenny sat there, speechless and numb with shock: she remembered her mother’s familiar face and weathered hands. “Why didn’t I think of that? A bowl of noodles from a stranger made me feel grateful. Why haven’t I thanked my mum for what she has done for me?”

On the way home. Jenny made up her mind to make an apology to her mother for her rudeness as soon as she arrived home.

Nearing the doorway, Jenny took a deep breath.

At that time, her mother came back and touched her hair gently, which called her mind back.

It’s common to see a barista create coffee art (咖啡拉花), but     1     is different doing the same thing with tea. Han Zheming has managed to perfect the skill,     2     (create) tea art in cups, or dian cha in Chinese, which used to be a ritual(仪式) during the Song Dynasty(960-1279).

Over the past six years, the 40 year old Shanghai artist     3     (use) tea and spoons to create nearly 200 patterns based on ancient paintings. It’s also his     4     ( intend) to bring the old ritual back to modern life and have more people appreciate its charm. Han says, “It is similar to the foam on top of a cup of coffee, except that it     5     (make) of tea rather than milk. ”

Han has been     6     (deep) fascinated by the culture and art of the Song Dynasty, and has engaged in its artistic practices since childhood. “I was     7     (amaze) by this exquisite way of drinking tea,     8     was also loved by Emperor Huizong of the Song Dynasty, ” Han says.

With his increasing input to the art, Han quit his job at the games company in 2019 and has been spreading dian cha culture ever since. He put the process of dian cha     9     social media platforms, including Little Red Book, Bilibili     10     Douyin. He has more than 20, 000 followers on Little Red Book, and some of his videos have received more than 300, 000 views. Speaking about his understanding of this tea art, Han says it’s “to increase beauty of tea rather than change the spirit of tea. ”

The Class Poet(诗人)

When Thanksgiving Day was approaching (临近), my primary school decided to celebrate(庆祝 ) by presenting shows with dancing and singing that all students could join in. Parents would also be invited to watch.

One afternoon, my teacher called me into his office. He said with a smile, “Nancy, could you write a poem (诗) and read it during the coming event?” “Of course,” I answered excitedly. I had loved poetry since fifth grade. When my first poem was published, my friends and teachers started to describe me as the class poet.

I left the schoolmaster’s office that afternoon feeling quite happy. Then, for weeks, I worked on my poem, carefully designing the content, structure and sound. I practiced reciting(朗诵)it aloud every day.

When the evening for the event finally came, I was ready. Well, I was ready until I looked around and realized how many people there were in the school hall. How could I present my poem in front of more than 400 people? I was just a seventh-grader. No one would take my work seriously. What was worse, I had never spoken in front of a huge crowd before. I sat in my chair, wanting to bury(隐藏) myself. Maybe they would forget I was supposed to read.

“Hey, Nancie, I saw your name in the program. Good luck,” my little brother shouted. His voice rose as he took his seat a few rows (排)down with his class. I nodded (点头), struggling to keep calm. I knew my parents were somewhere in the hall. Before long, the lights faded (暗下来), the crowd went quiet, and the schoolmaster got on stage to introduce the list of performers. My name was at the end of the list, so I had to sit through an hour of absolute anxiety.

It wasn’t until the students from the fourth grade were singing that my teacher led me downstairs to the area next to the stage. My mind was blank (空白的). Then suddenly, I was on stage with the bright white lights blinding (使眼花) my view of the audience. When I walked to the microphone in the center of the stage, I somehow tripped (绊倒) over something and stupidly fell down. All of the kids burst into laughter.

I was about to run away when my teacher came up to me

When I finished my reading, the hall was silent at first.

One afternoon after school, Mary and her brother, Keith, were eating at a cafe near their home. That afternoon, they had to share their table with another person. That person was a young lady in her twenties. After eating, she went to the restroom. Without realizing, she had left her cellphone on the table. Five minutes later, she came out and walked out of the cafe without looking back.

Mary saw the cellphone on the table. She quickly told Keith, “Keith, the girl left behind her cellphone.”Keith looked at the cellphone. It took his breath away. It was one of the latest models on the market. Keith had always wanted a cellphone. But his parents had told him, “You don’t need one. You can always use the house phone.” He stared at it for some minutes. Then, he said slowly, pausing on every word, “I want to take the cellphone.” Mary could not believe her ears. She only stared at her brother, “You can’t! What if the owner comes to look for it?”

After making the decision, Keith quickly got the cellphone and put it in his schoolbag. Then, he took Mary’s hand and led her out of the cafe quickly.

Once back home, Keith locked his room door with trembling (颤抖的) hands. Inside his room, he took out the piece of beauty. Oh, he liked it so much. He had his own cellphone. Soon, he was polishing it happily. But Mary told him, “Keith, you cannot keep the cellphone. What will you tell our father about this? He will ask you how you got the cellphone.” Keith said quickly, “I will say a friend lent it to me.” Mary said, “Now you are lying too. Oh dear! When had Keith turned so dishonest?”

Then, Mary saw a house phone number on the cover of the cellphone. “This is the girl’s phone number. Why don’t we just call this number? We will talk to her and ask her to come and take back her cellphone,” she was trying to talk some sense into him.

That night, Keith turned over in bed from time to time.

Mary was very happy to hear that.

His father said, “All set, boy?” and Jeremy nodded quickly, picking up his gun. Finally, they arrived at the marsh. Normally, Jeremy would ask his father to wait while he tried to record the beautiful place with his camera, but not this morning. This was the morning when 14-year old Jeremy was to have duck shooting.

Actually, he hated duck shooting since his father bought him a gun, taught him to shoot and promised him this trip. But he loved his father, and wanted to make his father pleased.

Jeremy put down the camera, sat down and waited anxiously.

“Better get ready. Sometimes ducks are on top of you before you know it,” his father said. He watched Jeremy break his gun, put in the bullets and close it again. “I’ll let you shoot first,” he said. He stopped suddenly, eyes narrowed. “There is a small group of ducks heading this way now. Keep your head down. I’ll give you the order.”

Jeremy’s heart was beating wildly. He prayed, “Don’t let the ducks come, please.”

But they kept coming. “Four black ducks and one mallard (绿头鸭),” said his father.

High above, Jeremy heard the sound of wings as the ducks went over and began to circle. The mallard was leading; his bright orange feet dropped down, reaching for the water. Closer, closer...

“Get set,” his father whispered.

“Now, shoot!” cried his father in a loud voice.

Jeremy felt his body obey. He stood up, his hands holding the gun the way his father had taught him.

At the same time, the wild ducks saw the gunners and flew. “Shoot!” said something sharply in Jeremy’s brain, but the expected sound didn’t come. Up went the mallard, until it flew away.

His father asked in a controlled voice, “Why didn’t you shoot?”

His father was handing the camera to him and said softly, “Here comes another duck.”