四面呼呼的风声席卷过长街。宽阔的大街上空无一人。已入深秋,刺骨的狂风轻易击败了人们。没有多少人愿意跨出温暖的家来面对这寒风了。但除了孔乙己。他不是敢面对,而是他必须面对。他没有可供他遮风避雨的场所——他没有家。他依旧穿着件破夹袄,脸色白得惊人,以往留下的一些伤疤反而被衬得不是那么明显了。他盘着 The whirring winds swept through Long Street. The wide street is empty. Into late autumn, the savage winds easily defeated people. Not many people are willing to step out of the warm home to face this cold wind. But in addition to Kong Yiji. He does not dare to face, but he must face. He has no place for him to shelter from wind and rain - he has no home. He was still wearing a broken folder and his face was astonishingly white. Some of the scars he left in the past were instead rendered less obvious. He is dished