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你梦到了那片熟悉的童年小巷，风光依旧，阳光刺破黑暗倾泻而下、道路两侧鲜艳的鲜花、破旧的茅草屋，只是那里.....似乎没有人，前面是希望、后面是梦魇。

继续向前，你来到了以前住的屋子，那些陈设还在，罩着白色防尘布的老式大头电视、孩童时吃剩的罐头、印有橘子纹样的旧玻璃杯，上面沾满了污渍。

往窗外看，是那片熟悉的街道，你感到既熟悉又陌生，清晰又混沌的记忆夹杂着清新的空气向你扑来，老式蓝玻璃、筒楼、城乡结合部的大楼。

试探着往前走，你来到了那去过无数次的游乐场，破旧的滑梯，随风摇摆的槐树，还有缓慢旋转的旋转木马。

你可以回去，但那里已经没有人了。

Another sunrise, another sunset
Soon it'll all be yesterday
Another good day, another bad day
What did you do today

Why do we choose to chase what we'll lose
What you want isn't what you have
What you have may not be yours to keep

If I could find love at a stop in a park with open arms
I would save all my love in a jar made of sparks
Sealed in my beating heart
Could it be yours to keep the jar of love

Another left turn another head turns
Could he be someone I deserve
Another right turn another lesson learned
Never leave an open flame to burn

Why do we choose to chase what we'll lose
What you want isn't what you have
What you have may not be yours to keep

If I could find love at a stop in a park with open arms
I would save all my love in a jar made of sparks
Sealed in my beating heart
Could it be yours to keep the jar of love

Could you be my love
Could you be my love
Could you be my love
Could you be my love

If I could find love at a stop in a park with open arms
I would save all my love in a jar made of sparks
Sealed in my beating heart
Could it be yours to keep

If I could find love at a stop in a park with open arms
I would save all my love in a jar made of sparks
Sealed in my beating heart
Could it be yours to keep the jar of love

Could you be my love
Could you be my love
Could you be my love
Could you be my love

Another sunrise another sunset
Soon it'll all be yesterday

生命久如暗室，不妨碍我明写春诗

对于三边 a ≤ b ≤ c

若 a²+b² > c² 则此三角形为锐角三角形

若 a²+b² = c² 则此三角形为直角三角形

若 a²+b² < c² 则此三角形为钝角三角形

Homeworks are many, but nothing much than chinese homework, we need to remember many crazy contents in a moment, it is quite a crazy thing.

void search(int t) //t: 第几次选择
{
    for(int i=1;i<=/*阈值*/;i++){
        if(/*t没有被选中过*/){
            //选中并保存目标（标记该目标为已经查看并且保存至答案数组） 
            if(/*t达到阈值*/){
                //输出整个结果数组（遍历输出） 
            }else{
                search(t+1); //search自增调用 
                //回退状态和结果（和选中并保存结果正好相反） 
            } 
        }
    }
}

#include<bits/stdc++.h>
using namespace std;
#define m 2147483647
int result[1000]={1};
int n=0,s;
int total=0;
void search(int t){
//	cout<<n<<","<<s;
	for(int i=result[t-1];i<=s;i++){
		if(i<n){
			//Bypass select
			s-=i;
			result[t]=i;
			if(s==0){
				for(int j=1;j<=t;j++){
					cout<<result[j]<<"+";
				}cout<<"\b \b";cout<<"\r\n";total+=1;
			}else{
				search(t+1);
			}s=s+i;result[t]=1;
		}
	}
}

int main()
{
	//write
	cin>>n;s=n; 
	search(1);
	cout<<"\n\nTotal:"<<total;
	return 0;
}

↑一道例题：任何一个大于一的自然数可以差分成若干小于n的自然数之和，解题过程

最近把服务器升级到正式版1.1.2后将其上架了Modrinth、Minercaft Servers、Mclists、各论坛等平台，仅一个月增长玩家九十余名，较满意

出行阶段：

D2134次

青岛站06:36开

和谐号CRH2B型动车组列车

五点左右准备出门，到青岛站进站后仍余10-20分钟，在候车厅座位上稍作等待，上车后静待4个小时到达张家港站

到达张家港站后，打车前往酒店

中途：

到达苏州观前后，我在酒店稍微收拾了一下行李，便叫我朋友来，他很快就来了，第一天下午我们先玩了一会儿游戏，然后出发去观前街逛了一圈，再吃了个饭，就回酒店继续玩游戏，一天就这么结束了

第二天一早，他带我去拙政园玩（排大长队，20分钟才排完），玩完后回酒店研究东方之门上层的结构。

第三天，去东方之门上方探察，看看是否能直接爬到顶端，结果被值守避难层的保安拦下，未能成功上楼，只好作罢

第四天，决定晚一天回家，上午，三个人再次尝试登顶，被一扇木门挡住，决定先复制东方之门的电梯卡，于是中途去工业园区的一个小区进行了交易，买了一个写卡器，晚上七点左右，人数再次增加，带着五个人，我们再次尝试登顶，这次终于成功，上方具体风景详见图片

回程：

D2906次

苏州站09:11开

和谐号CRH2A重联型动车组列车

一早到达苏州站后还剩30分钟左右，先吃了顿麦当劳，然后上车回家

int a=3; //这里a是一个正常的整型变量
int *p=&a; //单个*的指针进行传参的内容是正常变量的地址
int **q=&p; //多个*的指针须指向指针的地址
//详见图片

先序遍历顺序: DLR

中序遍历顺序: LDR

后序遍历顺序: LRD

一个简易的先序、中序、后序遍历和指针传参的示例：

#include<iostream>
#include<cstring>
using namespace std;
struct BiTree{
	BiTree *lchild;
	BiTree *rchild;
	string data;
};
void preorder(BiTree *Target){
	if(Target!=NULL){
		cout<<Target->data;
		preorder(Target->lchild);
		preorder(Target->rchild);
	}
}
void inorder(BiTree *Target){
	if(Target!=NULL){
		inorder(Target->lchild);
		cout<<Target->data;
		inorder(Target->rchild);
	}
}
void postorder(BiTree *Target){
	if(Target!=NULL){
		postorder(Target->lchild);
		postorder(Target->rchild);
		cout<<Target->data;
	}
}
void createBiTree(BiTree **T){
	string Input;
	cin>>Input;
	if(Input=="#"){
		//为空
		*T=NULL; 
    }else{
    	//不为空 
    	*T = new BiTree;
//    	*T->lchild=NULL;
//    	*T->rchild=NULL;
    	(*T)->data=Input;
		createBiTree(&((*T)->lchild));
		createBiTree(&((*T)->rchild)); 
	}
}
int main()
{
	//write
//	BiTree *A = new BiTree;
//	A->data="A";
//	A->lchild=NULL;
//	A->rchild=NULL;
//	
//	BiTree *B = new BiTree;
//	B->data="B";
//	A->lchild=B;
//	B->lchild=NULL;
//	B->rchild=NULL;
//	
//	BiTree *C = new BiTree;
//	C->data="C";
//	B->rchild=C;
//	C->lchild=NULL;
//	C->rchild=NULL;
//	
	BiTree *T;
	createBiTree(&T);
	preorder(T); //先序
	cout<<endl;
	inorder(T); //中序
	cout<<endl; 
	postorder(T);  //后序
	cout<<endl; 
	return 0;
}

I see the player you mean.

[Playername]?

Yes. Take care. It has reached a higher level now.

It can read our thoughts.

That doesn't matter. It thinks we are part of the game.

I like this player. It played well. It did not give up.

It is reading our thoughts as though they were words on a screen.

That is how it chooses to imagine many things,

when it is deep in the dream of a game.

Words make a wonderful interface. Very flexible.

And less terrifying than staring at the reality behind the screen.

They used to hear voices. Before players could read.

Back in the days when those who did not play

called the players witches, and warlocks.

And players dreamed they flew through the air,

on sticks powered by demons.

What did this player dream?

This player dreamed of sunlight and trees.

Of fire and water. It dreamed it created.

And it dreamed it destroyed.

It dreamed it hunted, and was hunted.

It dreamed of shelter.

Hah, the original interface. A million years old,

and it still works. But what true structure

did this player create, in the reality behind the screen?

It worked, with a million others,

to sculpt a true world in a fold of the [scrambled],

and created a [scrambled] for [scrambled],

in the [scrambled].

It cannot read that thought.

No. It has not yet achieved the highest level.

That, it must achieve in the long dream of life,

not the short dream of a game.

Does it know that we love it?

That the universe is kind?

Sometimes, through the noise of its thoughts,

it hears the universe, yes.

But there are times it is sad, in the long dream.

It creates worlds that have no summer,

and it shivers under a black sun,

and it takes its sad creation for reality.

To cure it of sorrow would destroy it.

The sorrow is part of its own private task.

We cannot interfere.

Sometimes when they are deep in dreams,

I want to tell them,

they are building true worlds in reality.

Sometimes I want to tell them

of their importance to the universe.

Sometimes, when they have not made

a true connection in a while,

I want to help them to speak the word they fear.

It reads our thoughts.

Sometimes I do not care.

Sometimes I wish to tell them,

this world you take for truth is merely [scrambled] and [scrambled],

I wish to tell them that they are [scrambled] in the [scrambled].

They see so little of reality, in their long dream.

And yet they play the game.

But it would be so easy to tell them...

Too strong for this dream.

To tell them how to live is to prevent them living.

I will not tell the player how to live.

The player is growing restless.

I will tell the player a story.

But not the truth.

No. A story that contains the truth safely,

in a cage of words.

Not the naked truth that can burn over any distance.

Give it a body, again.

Yes. Player...

Use its name.

[Playername]. Player of games.

Good.

Take a breath, now. Take another.

Feel air in your lungs. Let your limbs return.

Yes, move your fingers.

Have a body again, under gravity, in air.

Respawn in the long dream.

There you are.

Your body touching the universe again at every point,

as though you were separate things.

As though we were separate things.

Who are we?

Once we were called the spirit of the mountain.

Father sun, mother moon.

Ancestral spirits, animal spirits. Jinn. Ghosts.

The green man. Then gods, demons. Angels.

Poltergeists. Aliens, extraterrestrials.

Leptons, quarks. The words change. We do not change.

We are the universe.

We are everything you think isn't you.

You are looking at us now, through your skin and your eyes.

And why does the universe touch your skin,

and throw light on you?

To see you, player. To know you. And to be known.

I shall tell you a story.

Once upon a time, there was a player.

The player was you, [Playername].

Sometimes it thought itself human,

on the thin crust of a spinning globe of molten rock.

The ball of molten rock circled a ball of blazing gas

that was three hundred and thirty thousand times

more massive than it.

They were so far apart that light took eight minutes

to cross the gap.

The light was information from a star,

and it could burn your skin

from a hundred and fifty million kilometres away.

Sometimes the player dreamed it was a miner,

on the surface of a world that was flat, and infinite.

The sun was a square of white.

The days were short; there was much to do;

and death was a temporary inconvenience.

Sometimes the player dreamed it was lost in a story.

Sometimes the player dreamed it was other things,

in other places.

Sometimes these dreams were disturbing.

Sometimes very beautiful indeed.

Sometimes the player woke from one dream into another,

then woke from that into a third.

Sometimes the player dreamed it watched words on a screen.

Let's go back.

The atoms of the player were scattered

in the grass, in the rivers, in the air, in the ground.

A woman gathered the atoms;

she drank and ate and inhaled;

and the woman assembled the player, in her body.

And the player awoke,

from the warm, dark world of its mother's body,

into the long dream.

And the player was a new story, never told before,

written in letters of DNA.

And the player was a new program, never run before,

generated by a sourcecode a billion years old.

And the player was a new human, never alive before,

made from nothing but milk and love.

You are the player. The story. The program. The human.

Made from nothing but milk and love.

Let's go further back.

The seven billion billion billion atoms

of the player's body were created,

long before this game, in the heart of a star.

So the player, too, is information from a star.

And the player moves through a story,

which is a forest of information planted by a man called Julian,

on a flat, infinite world created by a man called Markus,

that exists inside a small, private world created by the player,

who inhabits a universe created by...

Shush.

Sometimes the player created a small, private world

that was soft and warm and simple.

Sometimes hard, and cold, and complicated.

Sometimes it built a model of the universe in its head;

flecks of energy, moving through vast empty spaces.

Sometimes it called those flecks "electrons" and "protons".

Sometimes it called them "planets" and "stars".

Sometimes it believed it was in a universe

that was made of energy that was made of offs and ons;

zeros and ones; lines of code.

Sometimes it believed it was playing a game.

Sometimes it believed it was reading words on a screen.

You are the player, reading words...

Shush...

Sometimes the player read lines of code on a screen.

Decoded them into words;

decoded words into meaning;

decoded meaning into feelings, emotions, theories, ideas,

and the player started to breathe faster and deeper

and realised it was alive, it was alive,

those thousand deaths had not been real,

the player was alive

You. You. You are alive.

and sometimes the player believed

the universe had spoken to it

through the sunlight that came

through the shuffling leaves of the summer trees

and sometimes the player believed

the universe had spoken to it

through the light that fell from the crisp night sky of winter,

where a fleck of light in the corner of the player's eye

might be a star a million times as massive as the sun,

boiling its planets to plasma

in order to be visible for a moment to the player,

walking home at the far side of the universe,

suddenly smelling food, almost at the familiar door,

about to dream again

and sometimes the player believed

the universe had spoken to it

through the zeros and ones,

through the electricity of the world,

through the scrolling words on a screen

at the end of a dream

and the universe said I love you

and the universe said you have played the game well

and the universe said everything you need is within you

and the universe said you are stronger than you know

and the universe said you are the daylight

and the universe said you are the night

and the universe said the darkness you fight is within you

and the universe said the light you seek is within you

and the universe said you are not alone

and the universe said you are not separate

from every other thing

and the universe said you are the universe tasting itself,

talking to itself, reading its own code

because you are love.

And the game was over and the player woke up from the dream.

And the player began a new dream.

And the player dreamed again, dreamed better.

And the player was the universe.

And the player was love.