Seeing Zhao Feng's depressed look, Peng Hui felt uncomfortable.

"Teacher ......"

"I'm fine. Zhao Feng shook his head and said helplessly: "What happened at the beginning, it was indeed what I did wrong, so it is normal not to be forgiven, it's just ...... I just didn't expect the teacher's illness to be so serious!"

"This disease ......"

"I know, it's an incurable disease, but ...... Why! What a good person the teacher is! Why do you ......?" as he spoke, tears fell on Zhao Feng's face.

Peng Hui chose to remain silent.

If it is just a simple stroke, although you can't go to the ground, it can be regarded as conscious.

But now, he has Alzheimer's disease, which means that Mr. Yan doesn't remember who Zhao Feng is at all.

There is no more cruel punishment than this.

"Least ...... He has not reproached you. Peng Hui reassured.

"En......" Zhao Feng paused and said softly: "Peng Peng, can you promise me one thing?"

"Teacher, you say. ”

"My teacher...... Mr. Yan's situation, don't tell me, okay?" Zhao Feng asked.

Peng Hui was stunned for a moment, and asked a little strangely, "Why?"

"The teacher has acted in a drama all his life, but his old age is so bleak, I don't want him to be disturbed, and I don't want him to be unhappy. ”

"Good. Peng Hui hesitated for a moment and replied softly.

Zhao Feng breathed a sigh of relief, squeezed out a smile, and nodded lightly.

Sending Zhao Feng home, Peng Hui declined the suggestion to stay for dinner, and then went back to school.

Lying alone on the bed, the scenes of the day appeared in his mind.

Unconsciously, a spiritual light flashed in Peng Hui's mind.

But when Peng Hui thought about it again, he couldn't think clearly.

Never mind.

Don't force it.

Peng Hui has always been very open-minded.

I stretched my waist and looked at the starry night sky outside the window, and my mood was inexplicably better.

Moved by his mind, Peng Hui got up and went to the store, bought two beers, and carried them to the roof.

The roof of the dormitory is generally entangled by iron cables.

However, there are policies and countermeasures, and some students who secretly smoke use techniques that they don't know where they learned them and get a key.

This key is not a secret among boys.

So Peng Hui naturally went to the roof easily.

The night sky is beautiful today.

Starry-studded.

The point is, not to mention the clouds, not even the night wind.

It can be said that it is a very good stargazing day.

It's September, and it's autumn.

Although it is not a cool autumn, but inexplicably, Peng Hui feels very calm.

Picking a relatively clean place to sit down, Peng Hui picked up a beer, but did not open it, but leaned against the wall, silently looking at the stars in the sky.

In my mind, I seemed to be immersed in the previous scene again.

The scenes of the past few days flashed in my mind like a horse's eye.

Zhao Feng who lost his spirit.

Zhao Feng after the bitterness.

Mr. Yan who suffers from Alzheimer's disease.

Forgot about Zhao Feng, the youngest disciple, but still subconsciously looking for his old Mr. Yan.

All of this appeared in front of him like a wonderful, yet prosaic drama.

At a certain moment, as if he was in the heart of a blessing, Peng Hui took out a pen and paper from his pocket.

This is a habit I developed after writing "You at the Table" last time.

Carry a pen and paper with you.

The goal is to be able to record the inspiration that comes up at any time.

"Yu Shao can see ghosts, taste the puppet in the snow night no temple every mention of the puppet, the crane hair is ragged, only a puppet is extremely fine, like a lady, painted beads and tears, provocative. ”

The brush in Peng Hui's hand wrote, and a wonderful story appeared in his pen like this.

Yes, stories.

Not lyrics, not songs, but a story.

However, at this time, Peng Hui didn't know what he was writing at all, he was just looking for the inspiration in his mind and transcribing.

Although it was written in classical Chinese, the story echoed in his mind.

When Yuntong was crazy, the two of them were side by side to the fire, Weng said to himself: When he was young, he watched the silk play, and he was delayed in the skills of the puppet of the bell. However, he has been adrift all his life, living without a partner, and the only puppet puppet he is with. Weng and wept, Yu Wen explained, implored him to play the bell music, as a silk puppet show, acting on the three-foot red cotton, babbling, the puppet looked forward to Shenfei, although the makeup was sad and charming. ”

Stopping the pen and rubbing his somewhat sour wrist, Peng Hui took a deep breath and picked up the pen again to write.

At the end of the song, Weng hugged the puppet, made a little joy, and said angrily, saying: Life is down, all puppets are mistaken, the weather is cold, winter clothes are difficult to place, and it is better to burn it if you are poor. Then he angrily threw himself into the fire. I didn't reach it, and I sighed. Suddenly, I saw the puppet in the fire rise tactfully, bow goodbye, look like a living person, paint tears on the face, a smile bursts away, not in the bonfire. The fire is extinguished until dawn. Weng had an epiphany, hid his face and howled, saying: Warm, lonely. ”

Writing down the last punctuation mark, Peng Hui's whole person seemed to have been drained of his spirit, and he leaned on the wall obliquely, staring blankly at the thin page in his hand, a little dazed.

The story is actually quite simple.

The "I" who tells the story was able to see ghosts when I was young.

On a snowy night, "I" met a ragged puppeteer and his dolls.

Although the puppet is in tattered clothes, old enough to be half of his body into the ground, and has nothing of value with him, the puppet is obviously finely made, full of delicate girl appearance, and what is even more strange is that there is a tear in the corner of its eye, which makes people feel sorry for it.

Because there was nothing to do on a snowy night, "I" and the puppeteer chatted while roasting the fire.

Since he was a child, he developed a strong interest in puppet shows, and although his family repeatedly stopped him, he eventually went with him.

This is a lifetime.

has been adrift all his life, except for the free wandering energy of his youth and this puppet, there is nothing left on his body.

The more he talked, the more the old man cried.

"I" didn't know how to persuade people, so I asked the old man to show off his skills.

I didn't expect this to be so good.

The old man really acted in a play.

Although I can't understand the joys and sorrows in the play, the puppets dancing with the bell music are shockingly beautiful, even if they know that it is just a gesture drawn by the silk thread, it seems that people can't help but want to hold hands.

However, after the performance, the old man laughed and cried, and before "I" came back to his senses, he threw the doll into the fire.

However, the next scene made me unforgettable in my life.

The firelight licked through the puppet's beautiful dancing sleeve gown, burning the delicate bones carved from basswood, and burning out a beep sound. At that moment, it suddenly moved, and a bone rolled over and rose, bowing down leisurely like a living person, and making a gesture to the old man with dignity and charm. It raised its tearful face, smiled suddenly, and shattered into charcoal ash with a click.

The fire burned for a long time and was warm, and there was not much firewood, but the fire did not get cold until the light of day. I tried my best to warm up for once. I was warm for so once, and I was lonely for a lifetime.

To this day, "I" still remember the old man crying loudly, howling like the child who was stopped by his father and mother and was not allowed to watch the silk puppet show.

(PS: Excerpt from the copywriting plot of "Silk Play")