In those days, I was not idle, except for the evening painting time, I went to the library more often, and sat in the same place every day. The little administrator of the library remembered me early on, he was not a work-study student, but a middle-aged man. Whenever I needed a book that I couldn't find, I asked him, and he was always able to find it for me in a quick time, and he seemed to remember where all the books in the library were located. At that time, the library did not have an electronic access system, and all searches required manpower.

One day, I was sitting in the library reading a book, and he walked past me and said, "You can be a scholar or a professor in the future." I looked up and asked him why he said that, and he replied, "You've been pedantic in the library for the past few months." "When I got back to my dorm that night, I looked at myself in the mirror for a long time, and it was hard to find out what he was talking about pedantic.

I rarely look in the mirror, I always have short hair and never use a comb. I cut my beard once every three days or so, and only when I cut my beard did I concentrate on looking in the mirror to see where I hadn't shaved cleanly. Every time I look in the mirror, I always feel exactly the same as the last time I was in the mirror, without the slightest change. Looking in the mirror is not at all like looking at a photo, when we look back at a photo from a long time ago, we will always feel that I have an unthinkable face in the photo. But the self in the mirror seems to have the same appearance all the time, and when one day you find that you should remove your beard in the mirror, you can't remember when the beard grew; When you see your hair in the mirror getting a haircut, it's hard to think about when your hair has grown. The self in the mirror often appears, but we can't see the changes, and it is difficult to trigger our emotions about time. I rarely see myself in the photo, but the changes often make people feel that things are wrong.

But it is precisely because of this blandness of the mirror that when something representative appears, a strong feeling will shock us deeply. For example, one day when we see subtle wrinkles on our faces in the mirror, we must think that time really flies.

In those days, because I had to see Hai Linlin every other day, my hair was neatly combed, and my beard was cut every day, and I looked energetic. I did not have the sad expression that permeated the faces of the graduates, nor did I have the so-called high temperament of a pedant. I feel more like a test subject soaked in the rotten liquid of love, waiting for a new self to emerge after the catalysis of feelings.

Hai Linlin's portraits are also taking shape, and I have put a lot of effort into creating a great work. Several times when I was talking to her with my back against the radiator after painting, I wanted to ask her how I was drawing, but I didn't say anything. She never took the initiative to evaluate whether my painting was successful or not, at most she got up and stretched after I finished painting the day's content, poked her head out to see, and said, "Well, it's going pretty fast today." ”

One day, I was fixing the light relationship near her ears, and her hair sometimes blocked her ears, so she raised her hand and pulled her hair behind her ears. When I watched her, we rarely looked at each other. But that time was different, every time I looked at her, she looked at me without a break. Even when I was immersed in the brushstrokes near her ears, I noticed something different about her.

"Strange." After making eye contact with me, she said, "You are in the class next to me, why haven't I had any impression of you for more than three years?" ”

Her question surprised me too, I never thought about it. Our classes are next to each other, and in the past three years, I don't know how many classes I have attended, and I didn't even have the slightest impression of her until I saw her work at the graduation exhibition.

"I'm a little person." I said, "I don't seem to have much of an impression of you, but this is the first time I've known you at the graduation fair." ”

"Men are always impressed by beautiful women." I saw her smiling through the top edge of the drawingpad.

She sat in front of me in this position for many days, and sometimes when she felt tired, she would put her crossed legs down to rest, but she quickly put it back on so as not to interfere with my drawing. She learned the piano when she was a child, and when she started the piano, she needed to practice her sitting posture, and although she crossed her legs, she still looked dignified. She is on the thin side, but not too thin, and always feels that she is pinched just right, very well-proportioned. Her skin wasn't very white, but it was very tight and smooth, and it looked clean. She loves to laugh, and when she laughs, the upper and lower rows of teeth are neatly arranged.

In art school, she was indeed not a beauty, but she showed an indescribable self-confidence. Especially her hair, she wears a shawl more often and occasionally finishes it in a bun at the back of her head. When she wore her shawl hair, the hair on her forehead was pulled back, and when she brushed her hair back with her hands from front to back, it combined with her indescribable self-confidence was enough to make up for what little beauty she lacked—a more attractive temperament than beauty itself.

"But I only draw pretty women." I say.

As New Year's Day was approaching, one night, the squad leader returned to the dormitory from the company where he was interning.

"I'm going home the day after tomorrow, and I've bought all the tickets." He said, "Send me." ”

He sat at a table in the middle of the dormitory while he spoke to me, looking at a newspaper related to finance. At that time, there were only two of us in the dormitory, and my bed was placed diagonally with him, both on the top bunk. Only the two of us had a bunk on the bed, and the rest of the beds were left with empty boards. The dormitory seemed empty, and you could even hear echoes when you talked.

We had a good relationship when we first went to college for military training, and then he started to be busy making money, spending time with people who shared the same aspirations he met when he was working part-time, discussing ways to make money when he was fine, and looking forward to the grand blueprint after graduation. I also showed that I was content with the status quo and had no desires, and our relationship became more and more estranged, from the initial intimacy to the general relationship between roommates and classmates.

Soon after the graduation exhibition, the two of us were the only ones left in the dormitory, and this period of contact seemed to bring me back to the familiar relationship I had more than three years ago. Especially after he told me about Helenlin's phone number and detailed information, he keenly captured the subtle changes in my psyche and saw that I was immersed in a fascination with a person of the opposite sex. He used his position as a squad leader to help me while keeping me confidential, and he knew that I was deeply afraid that my secrets would be known. I wasn't surprised that he saw my secret, I was convinced in my freshman year of high school that he was capable of this, but I didn't figure out why he would help me. He may just be motivated by the enthusiasm of his roommates, the responsibility of class president, or the memories of the friendship he had when he first entered college.

What makes me even more grateful is that he never mentioned it again after telling me all the information about Helenlin. In the two months between the end of the graduation exhibition and then, I didn't go home and didn't look for an internship. During the day, I spend more time in the library, and sometimes I come back at night with my hands covered in oil paint. He never asked about the purpose of my stay in school after the graduation fair in such a strange way. The only time he asked me why I didn't get an internship.

During those days, there were only the two of us in the dormitory, but most of the time we met and chatted in the evening. In the morning, he wakes up early to go to the playground for a 25-minute run, then goes back to the dormitory to change into his down jacket and put on a hat to go to work. Sometimes the evening comes back before me, and sometimes it comes back late. Once Hai Linlin and I came out of the studio and walked back to the dormitory, we saw a figure like him under the street lamp in the distance, and I was worried that he would see me Hai Linlin walking side by side on campus at night. I went back to my dorm room and asked him tentatively, making sure it was him. But judging from his surprised tone, he really didn't notice that I was with Hai Linlin.

He did know my affection for Hai Linlin, and he must have seen Hai Linlin on campus for such a long time, and knew that she didn't come home. With his intelligence and deep insight into people's hearts, he must have thought of the purpose of my stay in school. But he must not have known that I knew Hai Linlin and I were already painting her portrait in the studio. After telling me about Helen Lin, he told me that love is the world of the brave, and I changed the state that I was stuck in at that time. Since then, she has never asked me about anything between me and Hai Linlin.

That's what makes him so special, and it's very difficult for me to answer if I ask. If Hai Linlin and I have never made any progress and have always maintained a strange friendship of nodding friends, it will be embarrassing to answer. If, as I am now, I tell him that I have painted a portrait of her, I will still feel embarrassed. There is only one result that this embarrassment will disappear, and that is when Hai Linlin and I have become a couple, he doesn't have to ask, I will take the initiative to tell him. It didn't take much effort for him to figure it out, and he definitely didn't embarrass me too much.

When I heard the news that he was going home the day after tomorrow, a feeling of loneliness came over me. This feeling is not only out of attachment to friendship, but also to the whole student career. When I was the only one left in the dormitory, I really felt how irreparable graduation was.

"Oh." I said, "I'll give it to you." ”

He bought a ticket for 4 p.m. He took down all the bedding and put it in the dormitory management office, and the bedding was donated every once in a while. In this way, he didn't have much to bring, a stuffed backpack and a bulging handbag. He didn't leave a single assignment throughout college, and he sold all his study tools to his junior classmates. His backpack was stuffed with notes and statistics on making money that he had summarized during his three years of college. I've seen his notes, neatly written, and the data is objective. If the little librarian said that I could be a scholar or a professor in the future, then his notes must have made it look like he could be an economist or a mathematician in the future.

He had some clothes in his other bag. He carried his backpack and I boarded the train to the train station with him.

"Won't you draw anymore?" On the train to the train station, I asked him.

"I won't draw anymore." He shrugged his shoulders and said to me, "It's so boring, I hate to draw to death." ”

I had been getting him to the platform and couldn't go inside, so I handed him my handbag and he walked over the guardrail. I was separated from him by the guardrail.

"Thank you." I said to him.

He was stunned for a moment, then said to me with a smile, "Thank you for taking me to the station." Remember, love is the world of the brave. ”

Then we said goodbye to each other, and watched him go up the stairs and disappear into the crowd.