I stayed with him for three days and thought I should go back. On the one hand, because I did have to change my clothes, and on the other hand, I felt that I couldn't keep hiding, and hiding made me think more, and my fear and self-blame were stronger, and I needed to have a more intuitive action to solve the problem. When I returned to the yard from the company that day, my hands were covered with color and paint, and the old man, who was so deaf that he could only hear his own voice, sat motionless under the kapok tree, like a sculpture. I know that I can't be weak, I can't back down, everything needs to be normal. I deliberately slammed the stairs so that she knew I was back—not with a sense of need to hide, I even whistled involuntarily—I believe it was a sign of more weakness. But it backfired, and all my preparation and hard work was in vain – she wasn't in the room at all. Her door was shut, locked tightly with a lock, as if to keep everything from approaching.

I breathed a sigh of relief and was suspicious at the same time, and it occurred to me that she might have moved out of the yard before I did, and I had not dared to look through the window into her house. I sat down in front of the electric piano, and the fear and self-blame were even stronger, and I played "Sadness or Happiness", accompanied by fear and self-blame, and the remorse became heavier and heavier with each note, until it crushed me and I stopped playing.

A string of loud footsteps sounded up the stairs, it was the characteristic sound of high heels, I knew it was her back, she heard the piano and knew I was in the room. I guess her footsteps must be so loud for the same reason I do. I didn't dare to look at the hallway, but I was impatient to look at the hallway, and I finally wished I could look at the hallway, but she didn't look at my room when she passed by. She stopped as she passed by my door, dressed in a white dress and bright red heels, which she must have taken care of when she returned. We looked at each other, she was wearing lipstick, her hair was curly, stylish, elegant, sexy, completely different from the image of the past. I didn't know what to say, just looked at her eyes with eyeliner and curved eyelashes.

"Great painter, you're back." She said.

"Well, I'm back." I said, "Everything is done, you see, the busy hands are not washed." ”

I took my hand off the keys and held it up to show her. She smiled and went to open her door, followed by the sound of it closing. It was a complete countervio, and I thought about the details between us, from the first time my half-naked body made her scream and crawl into the house, to the only hand she stretched out when she borrowed her laundry detergent, to the beach, to the city square, to the marathon race, to the walk under the sugar palm tree, to the fact that I took pictures of Yingxiu with her 15,000 DSLR camera, to the music in the banquet hall, to the fatal blow that the smell of her hair dealt to me that night, and I thought I knew her better than herself. So I made two guesses when I came back to face her this time, and thought that all the results could only be between those two possibilities. But I was so disappointed that I felt like I would never know a person. Her nonchalant appearance completely suppressed my pretended confidence, I couldn't even say anything, I was amazed at her complexity, and I could only remain silent and frustrated under her elusive thoughts. Fear, self-blame, and remorse were washed all over the ground by her bland words and expressions, and slowly disappeared. I felt like a victim.

The next night, I felt compelled to say hello to her. I knocked on her door and she asked me who I was, and I said it was the borrowed laundry detergent next door. She opened the door wide and told me to go inside and get it. When I finished washing the laundry and returning the laundry detergent, I told her if I could talk to her for a while, and she said that she was a little busy at that time, and she had to memorize a little knowledge and come to my room to find me later. She came to my room at nine o'clock and asked straight to the point what I was going to talk to her about. I was stunned and at a loss for what to do, stammering and unable to think of a topic. Finally asked her when she had permed her curly hair. She said that a few days ago, there was a big event in the hotel, and her image was going to change.

"Is it pretty?" She asked, "Isn't it as good as it used to be?" ”

She didn't look like she was pretending at all, I didn't even suspect that she had the ability to erase memories from my mind, and her flat tone and smiling expression made me almost forget that I had a night of holding her under me.

"Beautiful." I said, "So you're so good-looking." ”

"It's going to be nice." She said: "I went over to rest first, I'm so tired these days, you should rest early." The piano has made great progress, so stick to it. ”

Everything seemed to be back to normal, and she occasionally came to my room to read a book and give me some pointers. She bought a pot and often cooked for herself, and every ton of rice must call me. Her cooking skills are good and the meals are delicious. I vomited the first bite of food I ate in this city, and I couldn't eat it at all, so in order to satisfy my hunger, I only ate instant noodles at Yingxiu for the first month or so. It took half a year to slowly adapt to the city's diet. She started out cooking only her hometown dishes and the most common home-cooked dishes. Once she asked me if I wanted to be away from home for so long. I told her I was homesick every day. She said homesickness can be alleviated through food. She learned how to make snacks and dishes in my hometown through the Internet, and after only a few times, she was able to look like it. It was as if we had forgotten the unpleasantness that had happened that night, but we both knew that the other had not forgotten the events of that night at all.

One evening, on our way back from the hotel where she worked, I asked her to accompany me to the beach. She stood on the reef, the sea breeze blowing her hair flying and her white dress clinging to her body. I saw her tall figure in the back, and remembered the injustice I had done to her that night, and felt more and more that she was so lonely and kind against the backdrop of the sea, and the love in my heart sprouted, as if I had been sleeping for many years and had come out of the ancient earth, and I could not suppress it. I walked up behind her and hugged her from behind, my hands around her waist, my thumping chest against her back.

"Why are you so good?!" My heart made me say this involuntarily.

"Mr. Lou." She said softly, "Please respect yourself." ”

Her voice was not loud, as if it was drifting from the other side of the sea mixed with the sea breeze, it was clearly recognizable, and my violent heartbeat calmed down for a moment, and the loss and hopelessness made me lose all confidence and heart, I never dreamed that she would say that. I let go of her and stood behind her, feeling the sea breeze with her, and we didn't say a word. After a long time, she turned to me and said with a smile, "Come back, I'll cook eight-treasure porridge tonight, and I need to buy some red beans and dates." ”

We no longer walked side by side as we used to, and I followed her side, gradually moving away from the shore. On the bus back, she sat in the seat and I stood next to her, and she looked out the window. Her cheeks were faintly reflected in the window, and her lipstick-smeared lips were more vivid in the window. I saw her secretly wipe the tears from the corners of her eyes. I knew she didn't want me to see it, and she didn't want tears to run down her cheeks and into her mouth. She once told me that she didn't like the smell of sea water and tears.