I struggled to open my eyes, and the dazzling sunlight made me a little dizzy.

"Awake?" the master reached out and touched my forehead, "are you feeling better?"

"Well, it's okay. I squeezed out a smile and moved my gauze-covered leg, "I can't die anyway, hehe." ”

"Stinky boy!" the master lit a cigarette and put it to my mouth, "After smoking this cigarette, continue to rest, and I'll go and serve you a bowl of porridge." ”

"Yes. I nodded, thought about it and asked, "Is my friend okay?"

The master raised his eyebrows, looked at me, and finally sighed: "It shouldn't be a big problem." ”

The walnut mutton porridge specially made by the master still has a mellow and fragrant taste.

The master once told me that this porridge has to be made over a simmer, and one has to stay by the stove for about an hour to watch it to make sure that the fragrance is pure. I also tried to make this porridge, but it was always because of my lack of patience, and the taste was much worse.

"It's hard to eat?" the master saw that I was stunned and rubbed his hands, "Hey, people are old, I am not careful, the salt may be added too much, or you put it down first, and I will remake a pot." ”

"You're not old. I lowered my head and took a few mouthfuls of porridge.

"You just coax me," the master said, looking at the mirror on the wall, "with all his gray hair." Back in the day... ”

The master began to talk endlessly about the majestic and heroic hair of his youth.

And for the first time, I didn't interrupt the master's long memories. It's just that there is an inexplicable burst of warmth in my heart.

In the afternoon, the slanting sun, the lazy sun, a bowl of steaming porridge, a chattering relative. Everything is very ordinary, and it is really warm to me.

I haven't had this feeling of warmth for many years, thinking that it has long since disappeared, but it has always been by my side, waiting for the moment I look back.

Savoring the rich aroma of porridge in my mouth, I licked my lips: "Master, another bowl!"

The recovery was much faster than the doctor expected, and the two months of sick leave were more than a month longer. I didn't go anywhere for the extra time, so I stayed at home with my master. Yo-yo birds, chatting, listening to his old-fashioned history, and occasionally humming two Peking Opera with him, I actually feel very comfortable.

The environment of Y City is very good, the staggered rivers and the antique buildings on both sides of the river, and the weeping willows can always give people a sense of ancient elegance, which has also helped me a lot in the recovery of my body. It's just that the public (dividing line) security department has been coming to me to make a record, which makes me uneasy, at least I have hurt people and have been hurt by people. Their nameless can't be stopped, which makes me feel very frightened.

"Do you have to lock you up for two days before you are happy?" the chicken boy was unimpressed by my panic, "There are many such things every day, Anla! ”

"Brother Jian?" I snorted coldly, "I really treat you as a brother?"

I'm not a petty person, but since we were hospitalized, I only received a bouquet of flowers from him, and the chicken boy is still a bit of a "boss" makes me a little gloomy.

The chickens were much lighter than mine, just skin wounds. Handed me a cigarette and fell silent, scratching the wound that had begun to scab over: "The boxing match has given him a headache recently, and it may be ........"

"I'll say it casually!" I patted the chicken on the shoulder, "you have it in your own mind." "I understand that these people are chickens, mixed with society, and always need some spiritual sustenance. If the so-called morality that we believe in is ruthlessly trampled on...... I really don't want to think about it.

I gradually alienated myself from the friends that my master thought were indiscreet, and I worked from 9 to 5 and went home to accompany my master after work. When I was really used to being so dull, fate played a joke on me again. I never believed in gods, Buddhas and ghosts, but there always seemed to be a pair of big hands pushing me forward. Let me start to know the whole world again.

It was a Sunday, and it had just snowed heavily in Y City. The gray weather makes you feel like time is not passing. The children at the entrance of the alley are carefree building snowmen and having snowball fights. The "squeak" and "squeak" footsteps seemed to coincide with the footsteps of my childhood.

When Song Jian came, I was boiling porridge, walnut and mutton porridge. Although I haven't improved much in my cooking skills, I have never been more determined to make this dish well.

"It's been a long time since I've been drinking!" Song Jian took a sip of local tea, "Is there any contradiction with the chicken?" Don't worry, tell me, I'll clean him up when I get back." ”

"How could it be. I added the walnuts to the pot and gently began to stir, "It's that everyone is very busy, and it's inconvenient for me to go there when I'm old!"

"That's good. Song Jian glanced at me, "Speaking of which, I haven't thanked you properly, if it weren't for you this time, the little life of the chicken boy might have been left there." ”

"That's a little bit of that on my mind. Song Jian handed me a bank card, "The password is the last six digits of the card number." ”

"Please come here yourself, I think you should tell me something directly. I gave Song Jian a bowl of porridge, "Taste it." "I really don't want to beat around the bush, so I just get straight to the point.

"This porridge is good, it's really good. Song Jian's eating appearance was very exaggerated, and he ate a small bowl of porridge in three or two bites, wiped his mouth, "It's nothing, if your body recovers, I will arrange a boxing match for you." ”

I pushed the card away, "Thanks, I ......"

"There's something I have to tell you," Song Jian interrupted me, "Your friend Lin Jia is back, you should be able to see her during the game." ”

Song Jian smiled at me and stuffed the card back into my hand: "Buy some supplements, recuperate!

Song Jian took out a stack of materials from his blue briefcase, and told me about the style characteristics of each fighter one by one. The information is very detailed, and even the life background and growth environment of each fighter are described. Every game was copied into the USB stick. But my heart has long been gone, and my eyes are full of Lin Jia's weak little body. Imagine that she became a straw in the storm, fluttering.

Wait for me!