The third and final day of our graduation design show. It was dark, and everything seemed to be asleep, a little colder than the previous two days. Because it was the last day, the graduation photo would also be sent on this day, and there were students from the photography department who helped us take pictures for free. Many students came to the exhibition venue. The graduation photo will be sent to the class leader, and then forwarded by the class leader to the students. Our squad leader's surname is Qian, and he is also our dormitory leader. When I first entered the military training at the university, the work of the freshmen had not yet been completed, and the classes were temporarily divided according to the major. I was in the same class as him, in the same dormitory. The eight people in the dormitory, except for me and him, all smoked, and there was always a miasma of smoke in the dormitory after military training every day. For this reason, he and I have a very good relationship. At the end of the military training, when we were officially divided into classes and dormitories, he and I were in the same class and the same dormitory.

The first time he talked to me, he told me that he wanted to make a lot of money in the future, and his dream was to make a lot of money, as long as he didn't break the law and could make money. In the four years of college, he also implemented this idea very well. In his spare time, he has been working part-time. His first part-time job was riding his bicycle around the streets of the city, with a flag behind the bike and an advertiser's advertisement on it. He rode from 10:30 to 13 on Saturday mornings, and from 15 to 18, earning seventy-five dollars. At that time, our military training had just ended, and the weather in the autumn tiger was very hot.

He came back to me that day and excitedly told me that this was the first pot of gold he had earned in this city. Much more than the few part-time jobs he did in high school, he asked me to go with him the next day. Of course I didn't say yes to him – it was too hot and I didn't have that strong desire to make money. In the past few years of college, he did not ask his family for a penny except for tuition, and all the living expenses and even study utensils were earned by himself through his own hands. While working part-time, he met several classmates who shared his interests. He and I began to drift apart, and our relationship was reduced to a normal roommate relationship.

The students in our class got together, took the photos from him one by one, and then signed their names on a form. I stand first on the right hand in the last row of the photo, and print the names of each person on the back of the photo. Years later, when I looked through my graduation photos from elementary school, junior high school, and high school, I found that I was standing in that position.

That's when we knew that this was probably the last time we got together, and it was probably the last time we saw each other. After the graduation exhibition, the student career is basically over, and I only wait for the official graduation of the second year to receive the graduation certificate, but it is a very long span. Many students have already prepared tickets to go home the day after the graduation exhibition. Therefore, most of the students did not leave, but chatted with their classmates at the exhibition venue. When I was chatting with a few classmates with whom I had a good relationship, I always kept an eye on the vicinity of the painting, and during the break in the chat, I scanned the room, hoping to see the slender figure in the black dress.

I knew she must be in one of our four painting classes, and it would be easy to find her by looking at a few more classmates and pointing to the painting and asking who painted it. But I didn't want to do that, I didn't want people to know that I was so attached to a girl when I was about to graduate. It was a very good painting, and I can say that I asked the author's name only because I was amazed at her workmanship, not because of her own obsession. But it's hard for me to make such an excuse, it's a feeling that the thought of her makes me feel extremely weak. When I point to the painting and ask a classmate about the author, it's hard for me to pretend that I don't care, maybe my voice trembles and I show my feet. It also made me too sensitive, and I felt that even if I looked at the painting, my thoughts about the girl would be written all over my body, or emanated by smell or sound, and mortals who could read and could not have had to use an awl of insight—even if they had no sight, or had the same sense of hearing and smell, would know what secret I had been exposed to the public. Others will see the secret of my heart. And I firmly believe that this will be the case.

Seeing that there was less and less time left, I became more and more anxious, thinking that after today, I might never see her again, and I didn't even know who she was. At three o'clock in the afternoon, the arrival of my classmates next door gave me the opportunity to find a way to know her name. I pretended to be very natural and curious to look at their graduation photos, and I saw that the author of the painting was impressively listed. She was wearing her black sweater and stood a little to the right in the last row, with a faint smile on her face.

I struggled to control my trembling hands, and I counted to the position where she stood in the last row and counted the fourth person from the right. I pretended to be natural and flipped through the photo and looked at the name on the back, and I followed the corresponding position and saw her name at a glance - Hai Linlin. I was afraid that only the left and right order would be reversed when the photo was turned over, and then I looked at the other side and counted the fourth name, which was a male name. I got it right again, and I was sure there was no problem, and her name was Hai Linlin.

I didn't realize until I was sure, I had been looking at the photos of their class for too long, and someone must have discovered my ulterior motives. When I saw that they didn't pay much attention to it, I breathed a sigh of relief in my heart. I returned the photo to my classmates in Class 3.

At this time, I saw the class leader standing next to me staring at me, and I felt that his eyes had stayed on me since I took the graduation photo. He smiled imperceptibly when he saw me and then turned away as if nothing had happened. I think he knows what is on my mind, and he is a much more mature person than his peers. At the beginning of my freshman year, I had a close relationship with him, and when I chatted with him at that time, I could feel that he was mature beyond his peers and had insight into world affairs.

I didn't think much of it, it didn't matter if he guessed anything. All I had in my mind was the girl's name, and before that, I thought about her name, and I thought that a girl like him must be a compound name, and it turned out that I guessed correctly. Excited and nervous to know her name, I sat down in my chair and calmed myself down.

I had a strong desire to call her name out to her face.

It wasn't until about four o'clock in the afternoon that she came into my sight. At that time, the students had already begun to clean up the venue, and the paintings on the walls were taken down one by one. Some students will throw away the paintings, some will keep them, and some will find a way to sell the oil paintings that have taken a long time to paint. Every year, at the graduation exhibition, there will be many people waiting to buy paintings at the entrance of our school, and they can buy an oil painting to decorate the wall of the bedroom or living room for a few hundred yuan or even as little as a few dozen yuan.

The scene at the end was very noisy and chaotic, and I saw her in the chaotic crowd, her hair tied up in a bun at the back of her head, waiting for her classmates not far away to finish the ladder and prepare to get their own paintings. I walked quickly over to my painting and hers, pretending to take my painting too. When the classmates not far away took down the paintings, I went to carry the ladder and stepped on to get my paintings. I heard her say to me behind my back, "Classmate, please help me take down the painting too, the one next to you." ”

I took my painting down and handed it to her, who leaned my painting against the corner. I took the painting down for her and handed it to her. I got down the ladder and the other students who were waiting to pick up the painting took the ladder away. She stood the frame on the ground and held it with her hands.

"Thank you." "Twice helped me get the painting down," she said. ”

A flash of joy flashed through my heart, simply because she remembered me. When the teacher was grading that day, I saw the idle look on her face when she looked at me, and I thought she had forgotten me forever. I told him that it wasn't a big deal to get a picture, that she didn't have to take it to heart. I thought it would be a good opportunity to talk to her, but I couldn't say it for a while. In the end, she praised her graduation work for how good it was. She was humble and generous, thanked me for complimenting her, and politely replied that I had done a good job. Of course I know my level.

The moment she turned, I wanted to ask her for her phone number, or call her name to get her back. But when the words came to my lips and I swallowed them back, I felt a little scared, a little weak—it felt like a novice stealing something for the first time. When a strange man opens his mouth and asks a girl for a phone number, everyone knows what it is for.