Another Thursday more than a month later, the weather had become cold. At three or four o'clock in the afternoon, the sun was slowly swaying in the southwest sky, and I sat at a table in a window on the west side of the library reading a book. The library was empty, there weren't many people in our school's library, there were a few people sitting on a few desks in the distance, and I was the only one in my area. The sun shone through the window, and on the wall next to the table stood a white radiator, and I occasionally put my legs on the radiator to feel the warmth it brought me. I'm watching David Copperfield by Charles Dickens.

I felt someone sitting across from me, and I was just about to look up to see who it was, when a familiar smell of shampoo wafted into my nostrils, and I shuddered as hard as I could, trying to restrain my excitement. I was so impressed with the smell that the scent of her shampoo was etched into my brain when I took the painting from the wall for her that night.

I could tell by the smell of the shampoo that it was her, and I was convinced of my own judgment. I didn't dare look up at her, but I had to look at her—or I would have looked too weak. I lifted my head off the book, and the moment I saw her, I felt that there were some things happening in the world that were really unbelievable.

Hai Linlin looked at me with a smile on her face, and I smiled at her in return.

At that moment, I was nervous and trembling and thought about many possibilities, why she was sitting across from me, so many empty seats in the entire library. I think maybe she thinks there's sunlight here, or maybe there's a radiator next to her desk that's warmer. But at that moment there were too many desks in the library that met this condition, and I was convinced that she was deliberately trying to sit across from me.

"You're so warm here. She smiled at me, and then looked at the white warmer.

"yes, it's warm. I quickly lowered my leg from the radiator, and at that moment, I leaned back on the back of the chair, and my right leg rested on the white radiator. I adjusted my sitting position and said to her a little embarrassed, "It's so cold outside." ”

She wore the same white fluffy hat I wore that day when I saw her injured foot at the school gate, and the hair of the shawl ran out of the hat and spread over her shoulders. Even though I was wearing a hat, I could still smell the familiar shampoo. Sunlight shone through the window panes on her face, and in front of her were two 16K books in English.

I lowered my head, afraid that she would see the "encounters" I had deliberately created on the way to breakfast, and then questioned me why I had done that. If she really wanted to ask, I would pretend to be innocent and tell her that I didn't do that, and that those "encounters" were really just coincidences.

"What books do you read?" she asked me, "It looks pretty thick." ”

I put the book together so she could see the cover of the book.

“《David Copperfield 》。 She pronounced the title in English: "It's a famous book, but I haven't read it." ”

"Are your feet better?" I asked her, "It should be fine." It was only as soon as the words came out that I realized that this sentence revealed some secrets.

She looked at me strangely, and then told me with a smile that she was all right, and once twisted it when she went downstairs in an English class, but it was fine, fortunately there was a roommate to take care of her. When I listened to her, I was worried that she would ask me how I knew her foot was injured, and I really didn't know how to answer her.

After that, she and I stopped talking and looked down at our books.

There was a serious question that bothered me: why did she sit across from me? I always thought that she was just a warm-hearted person who had helped her, and judging by her old attitude towards me, and the flat tone in which I usually greeted her when I made those chance encounters, it wouldn't have been long before she forgot about me. I think there are only two possibilities for her to sit across from me, the first is that she treats me as a normal friend, and the second is that she finds out that I pay too much attention to her, comes to question her, or makes some loopholes in my words, and then warns me not to attack her again in the future.

I didn't think she meant anything to me to sit across from me, and in my heart, I always felt that she had left me far behind. Later, when I became more mature, I recalled the feeling at that time, and deeply felt that I was young, ignorant and young, and realized that it was an illusion that would occur when facing my sweetheart. Besides, if she really had interest in me, she wouldn't have just come and sit across from me. So, the only reason is that she does think of me as one of her most ordinary friends. But even that still excites me — at least she's sitting across from me. I felt like I had fallen into a trap full of upside-down needles smeared with sweet, unbeatable honey.

I looked up at her, she was reading a book, and I could see her eyelashes from that angle, the sun shining on the side of her face, and the fluff on her face glowed with a faint beige light. I really wanted to talk to her, for fear that she would accuse me of being a blind person and disturbing her reading. She came to sit with me just to say hello, not to talk to me, learning English was her top priority.

We sat quietly facing each other and read, and no one spoke. A gust of wind blew a piece of Noda's sycamore leaves against the window, and the sycamore leaves had been falling for a long time, and they flew from nowhere. We both went to look at the sycamore leaf that was attached to the window, and in a moment, the leaf fell down the window glass.

"My name is Hai Linlin, the sea is the sea of the sea, and Lin is a wooden character next to the word king. She turned to me and said, "What's your name?"

She didn't know that I already knew her name.

"My name is Lou Yuqi. I wrote my name on a piece of paper and handed it to her.

She slowly recited it silently in her mouth: "Lou-Yu-Qi." ”

She told me that she and her roommate had signed up for English tuition and were learning English, and that there was a chance that she would go abroad. It's going to take a while. She asked me what I was doing at school during this time and saw me often.

I couldn't tell her I was at school so I could see her every day, but it was hard to think of a sentence that answered her perfectly. I can fully say that I also signed up for a class and was studying something, or doing a graduation internship at a company every other day. But I didn't want to lie to her at all—from the bottom of my heart. But I couldn't think of a perfect answer, so I had to say to her, "It's a bit of a problem at school." I knew that such an answer was too out-of-the-box or mysterious, and made her think that I was being too conservative about her, and that I must be doing something that she couldn't let know, or even something shady that no one could know. It will make her have a bad impression of me and will misunderstand me. But I had no other way, I had to hide my deepest reasons and never let her know.

In order to hide my unnatural answer, I changed the subject and praised her for how good her painting was, telling her that I had been paying attention to her painting, which I thought was the best painting in this graduation exhibition. I wasn't a sycophant at the time, and I praised her out of sincerity.

She smiled slightly and told me that she had been learning to draw since she was a child. Her mother, a music teacher, first taught her piano, but she couldn't get interested in it, so she switched to drawing. She was a very good chatter, and she told me a lot of stories about her childhood.

She always remembered that the first painting she really painted in its entirety was a two-dimensional owl. One evening she and her mother went for a walk by the river, and an owl stood on a tree by the river, and when they got closer, they saw the owl's shining eyes, and the owl did not fly away when she saw them coming, and she did not know the name of the bird at that time. She pointed to the owl and asked her mother what kind of bird it was, it was so cute. When her mother saw that it was an owl, she pulled her away and told her that the bird was called an owl and that it was an unlucky bird.

She thought that the owl might have been injured to stand there. When she returned, she suddenly wanted to draw the owl. She took out her pen and paper and sat down on the table to draw the owl. It was the first time she had painted a complete painting by herself, and she had never had the desire to paint out of her own volition before her. She felt that meeting the owl had opened up her true understanding of painting and her desire to draw. After the owl, she felt that her painting level had improved a lot, and her painting teacher praised her in the same way.

"There's something strange about the world. She said, "It's always being seen through and understood by people inadvertently. ”

Since then, she has been fascinated by painting, and her dream is to become a painter. When she was painting in high school, because of the work of her parents and uncle, she met some well-known people in the painting world, and several of them were very famous in China and gave her some guidance. But at that time, she didn't have a deep understanding, and when she studied at university, she felt that those instructions benefited her a lot. She also wanted to draw an owl in her graduation project, but she had drawn too many owls before, and when she painted again, she always felt that she was plagiarizing.

She spoke in standard Mandarin with few pauses or interruptions, and I felt enveloped in a soft, warm vocal cavity. The silence of the library was not broken by her voice, which was much cleaner in that quiet environment.

The sun had shifted from the southwest sky to the west, and both of us could only be seen by the side of our faces. The fuzz on the side of her face that had been hit by the setting sun was still beige, and she didn't wear makeup, just a little lipstick. I imagined her in an empty dorm room with only two people left, wiping lipstick on her lips in front of the mirror, turning her head slightly to look at it, and then pursing her lips.

She asked me why I learned to draw. I told her that I also loved to draw when I was a kid, but I didn't have professional training. After I went to junior high school, I never painted again, my qualifications were limited, and I always felt that painting was not good, and the cost of learning to paint was too great. However, my grades in cultural classes were not good, and after I went to high school, I decided to study painting again and apply for the art class, which requires relatively low cultural scores.

In my three years of high school, I drew for four hours a day and three days a week. Our high school has a class dedicated to art exams, music teachers, painting teachers, etc. During that time, my painting skills improved very quickly, and my style became much more formal, and I was finally admitted to this school.

Finally, I once again praised her for her excellent painting, and in time she will become a well-known painter. She smiled and thanked me for the recognition I had given her. When it got dark, I put Dawei Copperfield back on the shelves in the World Literature section, and she borrowed her two books and checked them out at the borrowing office. I waited for her at the door and saw her walking out the library door with her book in her arms.