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在满屋浓重的酱油香气中,他们只是说起那年一起点燃的自制小火箭,它没有冲上天,划了一道弧线就掉了下来。900句和满天星清晨的豫剧团大院像个练功场。在一群孩子中间,鲁见章多半倒立在墙角,嘴里叼着馍馍,眼睛向天。如果他肯练云里前扑这种复杂些的动作,多半是昨夜挨了打,不得已站在高台上,望一眼前面的破垫子,再望一眼朱子慧,做个鬼脸。在满院子的吊嗓声中,也只有鲁见章总是小声咕噜。朱子慧知道他在背什么,是本小蓝皮册子,封面上印着白色的“英语900句”。鲁见章不爱练把式,他跟父母说过,他才不要唱戏,他要飞上天。
In the aroma of full house soy sauce, they just talked about the small homemade rocket that was ignited together that year. Without rushing to the sky, they dropped an arc. 900 sentence and sky early morning opera theater courtyard like a practice field. Among a group of children, Lu Zhizhang mostly stand on the corner, his mouth dangling, eyes to the sky. If he is willing to practice the complicated actions in the front of the cloud, most of them were beaten last night. He had to stand on the high platform and look at the broken mat in front of him and then look at Zhu Hui and make a face. In the yard full of hanging noise, only Lu Jianzhang always whisper grunt. Zhu Zihui know what he is back, is a small blue booklet, printed on the cover of the white “English 900 sentence ”. Lu Jianzhang do not like practice, he told his parents, he did not sing, he wants to fly to heaven.