Sixteen pages after "Incense"

He saw that I never spoke, like a stranger, and frowned, not knowing me before and not knowing me in the future. A road, like the beginning of a different direction; I hid as long as I could miss his shadow. Sometimes hiding behind the door, sometimes turning halfway back, sometimes whizzing across the face. After that oil poem, I understood, he understood, noticed, and noticed that there was a subtle change in the middle. I understood that he was going to like my purpose, and when he thought of it this way, there was a fine fragrance, but it was removed in a very short time. I didn't have the slightest impression of him in my heart, I already remembered that he beat people, I was already worried and uneasy, and alienation was natural. I have long been dominated by the image of a college student in the city, and I am not afraid of people with such looks.

He's the kind of attractive among women, half the women here have him in their hearts, and I'm sure he's dressed neatly and cleanly, always washed thoroughly, and he doesn't do anything. He has a disguised style of not putting women in his eyes, and when he talks to women, his eyes look to the east, and when he talks about the Three Kingdoms, Zhang Qin says: Wang Feng is talking about the old good.

The letter was covered and torn open, and in the westernmost part of the room, I lay on my back on the box with my back to the door. Hello: I received a letter from you, which I saw under my quilt, and you said that you wanted to get along with me, thank you for your kindness. I don't think it's appropriate, we're still too young to know how to arrange work in the future. So I'll treat you as a well-intentioned, heart-to-heart. And this salute. This is the content of the letter, and at the end there are two words of Wang Feng.

What makes people feel naturally is the separation of theory and practice, and it is only a second to wake up. I don't belong to fantasists, and I fantasize about what I've really done. After reading the contents of the letter again, I did not write any letter, fabricated excuses and thought of it in an instant, and connected with the oil poem, this time there was no silver here, and the letter was torn to pieces.

After that, I didn't dare to go out of the house, and I was cautious when I didn't have a person, and when I came out, I was light-handed. Whether I was afraid of something or hoping for something, I was subtly flustered, and I had to repeat whoever I talked to.

A week later, I've forgotten about that day. Wang Feng was furious, seeing that I was alone in the room again, and directly threw a note in front of me, that expression was furious, he was like encountering an incomprehensible person, "You see, it's all the things you provoked." "Turn away again."

This time the note reads: Others ask me about your things, how can there be no wind and three feet of waves, is what you said, I hope you don't talk nonsense, it is not good for anyone, related to the problem of work. The last time you wrote me the letter was still there, and at eight o'clock in the evening I returned it to you by the river below.

While waiting for darkness to come, I was flustered, and there was an inexplicable sadness in my heart, saying that sorrow was the most appropriate, distant, and out of nothing, indicating that the future was so desolate. I fantasized about the future, which was a clear sky with only blue light. At this time, I suddenly felt blue and chaotic, and there was really a faint sadness that crossed over us at the beginning. It's just that things don't shift according to their own will! I knew that there was nothing to believe in, so what was to be said.

It was really dark, at eight o'clock in the evening, early spring was slow swimming, just out of the house outside dark. I hesitated, but the footsteps were ready, and I walked slowly to this side, as if people would let me come. The reason for myself is: I will not promise him anything, to ensure that I will not have anything to do with him in the future, just come this time.

Go to the door of that courtyard and see him standing there, he asked, you are coming, I asked him, you are coming too. He said it was too dark to walk up to the river. Oh, I walked carefully behind him and over there, he stopped, and we walked side by side. To the edge of the woods is a small river. At that time the leaves had not yet been emitted, and there was no difference between the old tree and the young tree, both were the same bare, straight poplar branches stretched out in all directions in the shadows, opposite a long ridge, and the silhouette could be seen in the long silence. The river has just thawed a little less. I didn't look up at the sky, I saw that the river was soaked with starlight, and I could see that the water was flowing. He said let's just stand here for a while, right? Good. He took off his coat and handed it to me and said it was cold at night, I didn't pick it up, he took out two apples and handed them to me, saying that they had been brought to me from home, and I didn't pick them up. He put his clothes on and put the apple in his pocket. For a moment it was deserted and no one spoke. He turned his body sideways, standing opposite me, as if he were holding something in his hand. Is there really a letter, I feel like I am swollen, full of questions? He picked up what he had in his hand, bowed his head slightly, and with a stinging stroke of the match, he lit the cigarette.

He said: I am afraid that others will see the letter, burn it, not a lie, burn it in the ashtray, and the ash is still there.

I said very seriously, there is no I know in my heart, burned the best, originally there would not be anything between us, there is no such thought. Well, I thought the same thing, that misunderstanding was solved, and later we, we can, is it okay for me to talk to you casually once in a while? Okay?

OK.

There is no entanglement in asking more questions, can not see his face is more true than him, does not want to stretch anything, there is no need to clarify the truth of the lie, more things can not be decomposed, below are more things. I whispered to him something he pretended not to hear: I'm stupid.

Such a process, nothing, and what, both people are not disappointed nor lost. I walked back in front, he was in the back. On the night back, for most of the night, I always listened to something and didn't know it. The thought of him standing so close to me, the smell of his breath, the feeling of a fish about to bend up. Suddenly, I wondered if I had gone to the river or not. Immediately I smelled the smoke again, he stood in front of me again, I suddenly heated up from the bottom to the top, my heart beat up, remembering his smoking, thinking that his movements were very beautiful, and there was a slight ripple in my heart.

In that paragraph, I did not hide from him, we occasionally met all smiling, laughing friendly.

In April, my father spent several days at home, not getting better every day. Arrived in the city hospitalized, the test form came out, 30,000 white blood cells, acute leukemia. The doctor told me that I couldn't be cured, that time was running out, and my mother fainted when she heard this, and my sister and I cried and called on the doctor to carry my mother to a stool. Our family fell into grief, those days! Spring rain also came to torture the extent of grief.

to be continued

2021.10.27