After a long absence, I returned to my hometown in this stuffy and hot and humid season.
Here is a village that becomes extremely sultry as soon as the rainy season arrives.
The misty rain silk filled the air quietly, sweltering and irritating enough to choke, and squeezed his neck tightly. L.
The rain in my hometown is always cotton-wool, falling gracefully, and then extending to the top of a distant mountain, cutting off all the happy sun-like vigor and always falling.
The rain in the hometown is elegant, but it is also maddening. It can neither scrub the ground fiercely, nor end the air of clearing air in an instant. It is just the mold that fills every gap.
I am one of those who keep everything and curse people here.
No matter how many times I ran away, I still have to come back here, it's like memories flowing in the blood, nature—travel.
I went to my hometown school as a short-term Chinese substitute teacher (although there is a long-term teaching plan). Unlike the sharp and mature children in the city, the hometown children wear old-style uniforms, pure white paper, like the rain of their hometown, Softly falling, there is no place for stabbing, time seems to be stuck here.
Different from the progressive cities outside, they seem to have been forgotten by time, covered by rain in this peach blossom source, and will not be able to go out for a lifetime.
I know, even if I want to escape, I will come back involuntarily in the end, there is no reason, because we are all here.
On vacation, in this village without any sound or light entertainment, how to pass the time is disturbing.
But I was mentally prepared. I went back to my hometown, and then quietly grew up in my hometown, and then buried here.
The wooden house was soaked by the rain, and I broke a branch and fell on my knees on the open porch. What do I want to do, like a potted plant?
In the chaotic mind, Zhang Yin's features floated from the river in my head. I shuddered suddenly, and the sound of rain became louder.
Is he still there?
Picking up the umbrella placed in the porch and still dripping water, my body began to make some moves, and that was an action that could not be reconciled with the brain.
Until silence, I was standing in front of that house.
Organizing my thoughts, I stood in the rain with my umbrella in the rain. It's not that I want to see it that much, but it can be said that, in fact, his memory about him had been banished to somewhere in the brain not long after he left his hometown.
So why am I standing here again?
I look back.
He is still, unlike me who abandoned his hometown, he is still guarding here, and he is heavy.
Before he came forward, he caught me and drew into the room without speaking.
When did you come back? Why didn't you contact me? What did you do when you came back? These questions seemed to be asked, but he didn't. After pulling me into the house, he went into the kitchen by himself.
"Tea?" There is still a shadow left here in this home. I went to the living room and sat down on the tatami.
"Just water." I responded to his question from behind the thin, broken wall of the compartment.
Nothing has changed, the old house, the wooden corridor that will make a noise when walking, he, and the rain of his hometown.
The quiet rain, the humid air, and the sweltering heat grew old memories. The slender white neck came out from the thin neckline of the shirt, and the soft black hair suit clung to his breath.
"I haven't seen you in a long time." I took out the question from my dry throat, wandering between us as if a fish-eye swelled and twisted.
He blinked, brushing down the dark black hair and nodding quietly with a smile.
What we know is totally a miracle of some kind.
I stood in front of the renting board near the school, and then he entered. There should be no intersection in my life.
I promised him a sub-rent, and an exact intuition in my head told me that he can be trusted by strangers, and I moved into his home the next day.
After a few years, I have grown too old. It seems that I am an adult who is going to rot away like an overripe persimmon, but he still stops in the age of white teenagers as he did at first sight.
"Do you live in your hometown now?"
His erected spine looked like a cat who didn't need anything, and asked me in an equal manner.
And after all, I do n’t need anything or I want everything, I think I can see in his eyes that he is unwilling to be lonely, but helpless.
"No, I rented a house near the school." Groping the cigarette case from his pocket, his fingers traced the silver square box mausoleum, making a circle, but subconsciously stopped himself from taking out food.
"I really miss it, school." He was so angry and sad that his expression was only faint. The next second when his emotions erupted, he was washed away by the rain. The expression on his face was deep but immovable.
He said that it was an indifferent expression, suddenly happy, angry, and sad, and then immediately questioned the meaning of feelings and then rigidified, and finally peeled off.
"Actually, wouldn't it be nice to move back here?" I smiled, and his expression turned blank.
"Yes, don't you say that? Even if you're just kidding." Suddenly his expression dropped back and he turned into a sad smile. I noticed that his hands holding the tea cup were shaking slightly.
Those eyes can no longer bear too much complicated and distorted sadness, and from the time I have seen it, I know that no one can be qualified to scold or inflict any pain on him.
"Sorry." I frowned, and I lit a cigarette, taking a sigh of relief.
From the moment I returned to my hometown, everything in the past began to be exchanged with the current time, and the current time elapsed, and the past time was confined to the current time zone. There is neither a source nor an exit. Constantly swimming in the air between me and him.
His eyes, with the appearance of lust, I can't forget.
"Don't apologize." Whispered, he growled.
He is a transparent being. The rain will melt away when it flushes, and will return here after flowing to the end of the world. I have never seen such sad tears, silently condensed, dazzled, and then fell to remorse. Deepest.
In the end, I left while he stayed.
The sight of the rain of that season disappeared, and I only remembered his broken back and broken back, and the burning loss in his heart.
Travel back, leave from the birth place when he was young, and go to a strange land. However, the genetic genes in the blood hypnotize at a certain time, and then return to the birth place.
In the field, grow up, grow old, and then return home to die. He was deprived of the right to grow and grow old by me. He stayed where he was born, was excluded, and there was a real quiet existence.
Have you ever hated me deeply? Go away, let go of him, forget him.
"No, I have a deep, certain attachment to you." He said, it was love.
And hate and love this family, I hope he is hated, can grit his teeth and unscramble the flowers to crush me, crunchy flesh all swallowed into his belly.
"Why me?" He Xin asked him, but he always shook his head.
I do n’t know, he does n’t know, but the fact is that we can only escape or accept, I leave and he stays. He was trapped in a shoal. I once fled but always came back because this is my hometown, in the same rainy season as when I left.
"Perhaps because of you, it can be you." Hazy, my consciousness was dizzy, his face was covered with the sadness that once wept, and I was shaken slowly by warm air.
His smile has not changed, there is no temperature to smile, only a touch of elegance, like nothing, but longing for everything.
I said goodbye to him and didn't agree to meet again, but I know we will meet again.
Maybe, maybe later, we can make up for lost time, just like in the past, in the same room without saying a word but relying on each other's sense of security.
Even if I missed it, I'm back now, and he's there, right?
I am crazy and happy and smiling, I am back!
And he is waiting for me, is there anything more enjoyable than this?
The rain was getting heavier on my way home. The rain in my hometown had never been so clear and clear. I laughed and became more crazy.
Everything surrounds me. I feel like I am back to my childhood. That way, I am full of hope. Even the sun can shine from the scattered clouds on my face, reflecting the ruddy face, and proclaiming the revival and revival loudly s life.
That day, I rarely had a good night's sleep, and the weather was fine.
The next day, I received news of his death. Quiet, not alarmed, nothing left.
Soon after I left, he wanted to go out to buy something, and was run over by a car rushing out of the alley.
His blood opened like flowers in all corners.
Even if the fragile and transparent film wipes the bleeding thread, it still has to return to its birthplace, grow up and grow old in the field, and then die in the hometown.
He always said that he didn't need anything, but I know that the only thing he reached out to hold tight—
The day I left my hometown, I let go of his hand.
This short story will be more boring. @@ is from Bai Yang's novel lesson report, so the craftsmanship will be heavier> "<Put it in the short story, because the text placed there is more serious (laugh)