On that day, I left the荚dong by the northern seaside and arrived at a city in the north which is perennially dry and moist. The rain during that season was continuous, just like my gloomy days. Standing under the sun, squinting to look at the sky, my face would gradually warm up, without needing any rouge. Wearing sneakers and strange jeans, I rode a rented bicycle to the west mountain. With the wind brushing past my ears and teasing my hair, my heart occasionally felt lonely. On the top of藕mei Mountain, looking down, the mountain was full of loquat trees with fine black flowers. There were many large-leaf plants. They had clear eyes and slender waists, quietly enduring their loneliness. That big city, with its small isolated buildings and blue-tiled round roofs scattered around, the dense green web-like structure stabilized but did not prevent the decay of the city. Time accumulated dust on its veil, thus it remained silent. The trend listened to various sounds of the city, watching the evening lights, listening to the wind as it passed by and the solitary call of geese flying over. Not daring to lean on the railing, feeling the grass submerged by water returning to land, sensing the flow of bloodlines, youth drifted silently. Late at night, the distant frogs chattered noisily, poking through the corners of the curtains. Around the ponds floated algae-like plants. In the foggy rainy weather, it seemed as if there was always a mountain descending. There was always a faint fragrance in the wind, softening the throat and refreshing the spirit. When summer came, there was a bird that sang every evening around four or five o'clock when it was about to sleep. I didn't want to listen. I cried under the blanket. The blanket smelled like her, like the summer sun shining brightly, laughter rising to the roof. Holding my face in the drying blanket, only exposing a section of my calf. She called out, pretending not to be there, unwilling to promise. But she couldn't help laughing, making the blanket damp. Coming out from under the blanket, I saw a black冶bird on the ground. It wobbled as it flew, murmuring unintelligibly. I wasn't very clear, it was somewhat mysterious. Like someone who knows all, speaking softly. It said, cuckoo, old clothes...
As twilight fell, I watched TV in the sand while snowflakes danced on the screen, predicting a stormy night. Turning off two screens, I continued surfing online. From the start of summer, I slowly got used to the taste of this city, accustomed to the constant rain everywhere. The cuckoo kept calling every evening. The house exuded a strong musty smell. The bamboo woven small cup pads on the tea table grew green velvet after a few days, washed and then placed on the balcony, but never dried. Just like the weather of that season. In the evening, after the rain stopped, I would go for a walk, watching women on the roadside wearing high heels, their experienced eyes flickering. Everyone rushed back and forth, I squeezed myself among the streets lit by thousands of lamps, indulging in the smoke of life. Gathering a group of people from all over, we talked freely, saying some aimless yet deeply related words. Stimulating each other's nerves, sweeping the floor together, also being stimulated by each other. A heavy rain splashed into the cracks of the spring, soaking the curtains and flooding half the living room. I turned off two screens, grabbed a mop and bucket and fought for half the night, finally looking at the glass where water drops continuously seeped out, falling onto the sand. In an uncertain season, I suddenly wanted a warm embrace. Even for a moment, it was rare.
When autumn was halfway through, I decided to give myself an ungraceful trip. Choosing a sunny day, I traveled with strangers, accepting their generous gazes, and then upon looking back, realized my lips had hardened. Starting from the morning light, visiting Qinhuang Tower, then from the old opera stage seeing the decayed costumes of performers to the soft songs of boatmen in the water towns, walking along, what was most unforgettable was the reluctant farewell at the airport late at night. I dragged my luggage, loudly saying goodbye to each friend whose names I could not recall under the dim streetlights, then watching them walk away. Perhaps in the future, our paths will be far apart, even if we met on the street, we might not encounter each other. This kind of ship friendship, may only happen once in a lifetime.
Six years have passed since that summer, a chance romance occurred. The north was already covered in silver, while the south could still leisurely watch flowers fall. Meeting him on a cool night. Now, the荼靡flowers bloom. Always believing that many things are destined. For example, some people will never love each other; others will definitely give you hope and then destroy it. Often promising death in times of despair, it is a perfect bubble pushed out in an empty and hopeless state. He warmly said, "Baby, I don't believe in death." At that moment, regretting his coldness, yet pained by his vagueness. Real human warmth, makes people quickly get used to the pleasure of conquest, always hoping the other party would be more involved than oneself, more proactive, controlling everything. Love is the same. We have different tastes, but we are both willing to take the first step. Handing over our enthusiasm. Even if it leads to nothing. He had soft lips and pure eyes, his smile carried a hint of shyness. Many times, willingly indulging in thoughts of him, even if it was just a true-false memory across a thousand miles of internet lines, imagining his clean skin, the feeling of touching it.
The current fortune mostly belongs to the mutual solitude of guarding each other, watching him wander among gatherings, moving between crowded parties and chess pieces of black and white. Sighing in despair. Early in the morning, typing a document, the screen suddenly swayed strangely with the wall behind it. In a panic, I grabbed my keys and phone and ran downstairs, leaving the computer on. Seeing people and children happily laughing on the square's high platform, my heart finally settled down. Suddenly, I wanted to see him, even if it was just glimpsing him from afar through the crowd. Christmas has just passed, time slips by like a dog's tail that can never be caught. Sliding past pure drizzle, sliding past the haze of autumn and winter, sliding past six whole years of content, so lazy, yet not idle.
Posting time: December 30, 2006, 21:05:46 Reply: Sliding through 2006, the night has cooled. First time coming here, greetings to the moderator! Please take care of me :) Enough excitement!
Posting time: December 30, 2006, 21:08:33