Because he had a good conversation with Zhang Ke, Yang Jinghui left contact information with him when he was on the train, thinking of the big boy, and then thinking about the experience of this night, Yang Jinghui felt that he was too outrageous, and even he couldn't believe that all this was staged by himself. Thinking of Su Yingrong's reply, she felt extremely depressed and bitter in her heart, what was her heart still nostalgic for, with the company of that high-quality man, she still had to restrain herself who was far away, whether it was to stay, unwilling or just for the occasional nostalgia when she was lonely.

I despise myself a little, just saw the moment of reply, for a moment I thought I was talking nonsense, why is it always so muddy, suddenly remembered what the old man of the hexagram stall said when he unsigned for him when he sheltered from the rain one day, the old man comforted himself to be decisive in his feelings, do not drag mud and water, and deal with feelings is very beneficial to work. At that time, I didn't know Zhang Xiaomei, and I even felt that the old man's words were a little nonsensical, but now that I think about it, it turns out that there are really some so-called destinies. Even if her heart is far away, she also has her own world, why should she still be reluctant to bond with each other, constantly reminiscing about the past. Thinking about this, Yang Jinghui's mood brightened.

He Jiquan looked at Yang Jinghui's flickering face and didn't bother, until Yang Jinghui's brows expanded, he couldn't help but ask, have you figured it out? Do you want to drink again to solve it? Yang Jinghui was greatly embarrassed, Brother He, don't make fun of me, who hasn't been young yet, who is young and not impulsive?

He Jiquan smiled, raised his eyebrows slightly, spoke a little hesitantly, and asked Yang Jinghui, there are so many bars on that street, how did you get to that bar?

Yang Jinghui thought back for a while and said that the lights in other bars were too dazzling, and the blue-toned bar looked soft and comfortable, so he walked in, was there any problem?

He Jiquan let out an "oh" and replied, there is no problem.

Yang Jinghui asked He Jiquan, what is the name of the bar?

He Jiquan replied casually, "Lan Yu".

"Blue Rain?" Yes, the rain is blue, and blue sometimes means sunny, sometimes melancholy. There are also ice blue colors in the drunken dreams and deaths that I have drunk, like the precipitation of copper sulfate ice crystals in chemical tests...... Yang Jinghui thought about it

……

He Jiquan didn't say anything, listened to Yang Jinghui talking to himself, and after a little contemplation, he asked Yang Jinghui what he was going to do next.

Yang Jinghui said that he was going to rush back to the hotel and accompany Zhang Ke to visit the teacher, which was promised to Zhang Ke at the time, and after doing this, there was nothing to do, and then he planned to return. He Jiquan said that it was not easy to come to Ningcheng, and he met Yang Jinghui by chance, and he could be a guide for Yang Jinghui. Yang Jinghui also felt that He Jiquan was very good, and he seemed to be able to find the feeling that Lu Dongsheng brought him in him, so he did not refuse.

Zhang Ke opened his mouth in the hotel, and when Yang Jinghui introduced He Jiquan to him, he was surprised, the friend he met after getting drunk, this is too bloody and dramatic. He Jiquan asked Zhang Kena what the name of the teacher was, and after Zhang Ke said his name, He Jiquan sighed that the world was too small, and he also felt that the earth was round, and no matter how people who went against each other, they would meet the most reluctant. He said the teacher was his uncle. In this way, He Jiquan took the two of them to meet his uncle painter, and then left Zhang Ke there, who had just taken Yang Jinghui around Ningcheng.

Ningcheng has a profound cultural heritage, the female writer, the female writer who has a greater influence in the country, the most reluctant soul to return to her hometown, mentioning that writer, people will think of Ningcheng, and when it comes to Ningcheng, people will also think of that writer, the writer and a city are so closely integrated, and later Ningcheng people built a memorial hall in order to commemorate her. The life of a female writer has gone through ups and downs, born in a landlord family, but she hates feudal family marriage, she has experienced three marriages in her life, each marriage is devoted to her heart, but she suffers from bruises all over her body, and the third marriage has experienced that turbulent years, so her love is finally a scar, and it is because of the incompleteness and hurt love that she created the immortal book "Wounded City".

When He Jiquan and Yang Jinghui arrived at the memorial hall, it was more than 2 o'clock in the afternoon, one came to the winter season, and the other was to the west, so there were few tourists, He Jiquan led Yang Jinghui, and explained to him from time to time. The writer has created one long book after another, stringing together touching stories with the grand background of the times, and if you think about it, isn't the writer's own experience also a wonderful drama? No wonder someone later created a XX biography with the writer's name as the title, which also caused a sensation in the literary world. It's just that ordinary people have become supporting roles in big books, passers-by, small roles, ordinary and ordinary experiences are destined to flash by, and big people are destined to shine regardless of the occasion.

He Jiquan took Yang Jinghui to see the side hall, where there were letters and codexes between the female writer and her famous friends in Chinese history. The apse is a so-called restored writer's former residence. It displays the portraits of the writer and his three husbands, introducing each emotional journey, Yang Jinghui can't help but sigh, no matter how wonderful life is, there will be an end and the song will end when people will disperse, but some people will disappear, except for being remembered by the younger generations on a special day, no one will remember. And what can be commemorated like a writer, I'm afraid even she didn't think of it, just because she has the value of being commemorate.

Walking out of the apse, the sky fluttered and fluttered snowflakes, Yang Jinghui looked up at the sky, the snow in the gray sky became more and more tight, dense, hit the face gently at first, turned into water and slowly flowed down, and his face was wet. He Jiquan knew that Yang Jinghui was preoccupied, so he didn't bother him, but he was thinking with some regret that it was wrong to take Yang Jinghui to see the former residence of the female writer.

At this time, there are visitors to the apse in the front hall again, a pair of men and women come to come, the man is wearing a wool coat, the woman is wearing a trench coat, the tips of the hair are curly, the two of them hold their arms and bend their arms, the expression is intimate, the woman stretches out her hand for the man to gently pounce on the snow on his shoulder. The man was a little unhappy on his face, and slightly blamed the girl, "I really can't figure it out, I have to come here, I've been here a hundred and eighty times, and you always can't come enough." You see, it's snowing again, and I hate snow the most

......" The man chattered a little.

Yang Jinghui looked at the girl fixedly, his gaze was very soft. The girl seemed to feel that there were eyes watching, and when she looked up, a stubborn and elegant boy stood in front of her and blurted out, Yang Jinghui, why are you here?

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