I had a dream.

In my dream, it was April when the cherry blossoms were in full bloom, and I was much smaller than I am now.

It was vaguely in the afternoon, and I was wearing a white kimono, and in the daylight, the cherry blossoms on the kimono were blooming. With my long hair draped, I walked aimlessly in an unfamiliar Japanese-style mansion.

It was like wearing clogs for the first time, and I felt very uncomfortable, so I didn't go far and took them off. The knotted rope on the clogs is made of the same cherry blossom white to match the cherry blossoms on the kimono. I hooked my hand on it and continued walking forward.

Walking through those delicate but esoteric rockery structures, I saw a few white cherry trees, and at the end of the cherry trees, there was a small pond. Compared to the previous exquisite garden, this small pond Tan seemed too casual and lazy, I stopped, sat on the large lying stone next to the pool, and massaged my feet injured by clogs.

I don't know how long it took me to notice a line of sight, and I followed the light.

At the other end, under the cherry blossom tree, stood Yuichi Fujisawa, dressed in a white kimono, who looked to be only a teenager, looking at me calmly. I was momentarily hurried: "Hmm...... That ......"

The corners of his mouth were a proper smile: "You don't recognize me?" I'm Yuichi Fujisawa. ”

"No, I do!" I jumped up from the stone and solemnly explained to him, "I know you, Yuichi Fujisawa. ”

The smile in his eyes deepened, and his right hand reached into the pocket of his trousers, and in a moment, he stretched out his right hand to me, and with a flip of his palm, he was in his hand......

"Suzu—"

The alarm clock rings to wake me up from my dreams.

In my dream, Yuichi Fujisawa and I seemed to have met for the first time, but in reality I was already with him.

Which is a dream and which is real? I sat on the edge of the bed sleepily and didn't come back to my senses for a long time.

It happened in September two years ago, and during that time, I would question myself every morning when I was about to wake up, and then when I was washing, I would tell myself in the mirror word by word:

I, with Mr. Fujisawa, were together.

I couldn't hide my pride in private, so I covered my mouth, and a smile overflowed from the corner of my eyes.

You see, I'm so stupid.

But my uneasiness is understandable.

Although I was busy working part-time in order to make a living, I did not fall behind in my schoolwork, and my written test grades even ranked first, but everyone understands that practical results are the most important thing. Although there was an inspection project designed and produced at the end of the previous semester, the results were not announced because the first academic year focused on theoretical knowledge and required extensive knowledge rather than intensive learning. When everyone almost forgot that this formal investigation existed, they were all taken off guard in a joint class.

On the morning of the second Monday of the new semester, the newly opened fashion structure design course was changed to a joint class by a short notice. The so-called linkage course is a form of teaching set up by Beiyuan College to enhance the connection and exchange of courses, which is generally carried out by the gentlemen of several major courses in the department, with various forms and a relaxed and active atmosphere.

The main lecturers of this linkage course are three professors who teach the fashion structure design course, the fashion design and production course, and the three-dimensional tailoring course, and the two professors who participated in the design rendering technique course and the color science course at the same time.

The professors in charge of the structural design and three-dimensional tailoring course first gave their own opening remarks, and then the two professors who participated in the same period also made speeches. However, the new teacher who arrived this semester and was in charge of design and production did not even see a shadow.

In the awkward glances of several professors, the lecture hall began to stir, and the students exchanged heads and talked about it.

"Hey, Xuebajun, what do you think?" A boy named Ichijo Shotaro who was sitting in the front row turned his head and asked me after communicating with his classmates.

"Hehe, Xuebajun doesn't have time to take care of the tail of the crane in your department." The girl who spoke was Yukiko Matsuda, who was in the same class. Wearing a slip dress in autumn leaves, a short black coat studded with rivets, and a red lip gloss on her mouth, her beauty is unique and bold in this subtle ancient capital where the style of Zhinian Shuxi reigns.

In the face of Yukiko Matsuda's cold eyes, Ichijo Shotaro smiled indifferently, looked at her carefully for a moment, and couldn't help shaking his head and sighing: "Matsuda-kun, why are you dressed like this?" You're cute like that, but you're still as cute as you used to be. ”

What the locals here want to praise is just one word. People are cute, clothes are cute, makeup is cute, eyes are cute, nose is cute, boasting from head to toe, there is only one word: cute. It's the same, it's lackluster.

Yuichi Fujisawa never said this. I couldn't help but laugh at the thought of that person.

"Oops, Susu-san actually smiled at me!" The smile was caught by a flash of Sakitaro, who winked at me, revealing a terrible idiot face, and before he could stop it, he had already exclaimed, "So cute! ”

My hand shook immediately, I deliberately shook off the gel pen in my hand, avoiding his gaze, leaned over to pick up the pen that fell on the aisle steps, but the lecture hall gradually quieted down, I seemed to hear the footsteps of the stairs, and the reflex followed the sound, and a slap Taro over the table slapped me.

"Hey, don't pick it up!" I couldn't help but be stunned, when I was stunned, there was a sound of plastic breaking in the footsteps, and a pair of Martin boots flew in front of me, my eyes flickered, and then I focused, only to see that the gel pen shell lying on the stairs had been broken in two.

I put away the remains of the gel pen and straightened up, the owner of the Martin boots was already standing in front of the podium, wearing large sunglasses that covered half of his face, and a strange big hat, his voice amplified through the microphone to all corners of the classroom: "I, Tyaki, teach costume design and production. ”

"Professor Tsumi, do you know? You're late! As soon as the words fell, Ichijo Shotaro shouted in honorifics.

"Don't call me Professor, I'm not." Tyaki said.

"What do you call it? Mr.? Ichijo Shotaro was unyielding, "Should I take off my sunglasses and hat to apologize for being late?" ”

"Yiyi-kun, that's enough, you be quiet." Professor Katori, who teaches color science, glared at Ichijo Shotaro and said sternly.

"Shotaro Ichijo?" Ti Jiashu repeated his name, then took out a USB flash drive and inserted it into the computer, exported a folder signed "garbage" in Chinese, and clicked on the first picture.

It was a design manuscript, and Tsujaki paused for a few seconds before flipping back at the same speed to produce several detailed drawings of the finished product from various angles.

Ichijo Shotaro obviously didn't know Chinese, because he was saying in a smug tone: "Mr. Tsutsumi, even if I did a good job in the design of my final practical inspection, you can't quote my design draft without my permission!" ”

"Excellent?" Tyjaki said contemptuously, "Shouldn't you apologize to death for making such a thing?" ”

The voice was about to fall, and the hall burst into laughter.

"Mr. Di, there's no way, who let this guy be the tail of the crane we tie!" On the other side of the classroom, Osamu Ishida stood up and said.

"How can you say that?" Beside him, Yayoi Higashiide, an honor student wearing glasses, answered, squinted his eyes, and looked weird, "The tail of the crane should also have human rights, right?" ”

"Who are you two?"

"The third in the grade, Yayoi Toide. Grade 15, Osamu Ishida. Higashiide raised her chin with the confidence of an honor student.

Tykashu exported the manuscript and finished drawings of the two of them from the same folder, played them in the same way, and sneered: "The third in the grade? Grade 15? Do you think it's garbage sorting? He pointed to the projector, a disgusted smile on the corner of his mouth, "This also has a face called design?" I just regret that I can't drag you out and shoot you for five minutes to vent my anger in the eyes! ”

The mask of Higashiide Yayoi's smirk was torn apart by Shengsheng, and he stood up with a "poof", his fingers trembling and pointing at Tsukaki: "You! You! You don't have a teacher! You are not qualified! Not worthy of teaching in a higher education institution like Beiyuan! ”

"I don't need you to judge whether I'm qualified or not, but," Tykashu pocketed, "I'll judge whether you're qualified or not!" ”

"You ......" Higashiide Yayoi stiffened his body, unable to speak for a long time, and was pressed hard by Ishida Shu before sitting down.

I glanced at the professors who were watching, and they all looked like they didn't care about themselves. The entire lecture hall was filled with resentment or horror, with only the front row of Shotaro covering his mouth and snickering.

Tykaki glanced around the classroom and said sharply, "I don't know what kind of basic knowledge you received before, and I don't care what standards your previous professors used to demand from you. I have to tell you, your designs are all rubbish! ”

"This is the result of your expedition last semester." He closes the folder, drags it into the trash, and says, "The garbage should be where the garbage is." After a pause, "each of them has put together another sixty sketches, and I need to see them in my mailbox by this time next week." ”

With that, he turned around and wrote down an email address on the blackboard and walked away.

I wrote down this address in my notebook.

The person who caused the commotion left, and the surrounding students began to talk openly about one thing: What kind of person is this Tijashu?

Osamu Ishida was the first student to ask the professor for confirmation. The answer is vague:

"Mr. Tsutsumi is a new teacher this semester."

This answer and the previous inaction show the professors' attitude towards this matter, no second student will come to the wall again, everyone will go underground to communicate, the group on the social software is constantly refreshing the information, there are different opinions, and the guess with a little more information is that Tsujaki is likely to be the mysterious god who never shows up in the circle, Yoshiki. Because Yoshiki happens to be the pronunciation of Yoshiki.

As soon as this statement came out, a screenshot of Yoshiki's fancy search results immediately appeared. Nothing but a glittering personal resume. Yoshiki apparently deliberately concealed his true identity and private life, and there was not even a single photo of him on the developed Internet.

The mysterious god came to be Mr. Teach? No one can say why, a class ended in a fierce group discussion, this linkage class can be said to be a failure, but the atmosphere is happy and relaxed.

The professor understood that everyone's minds were not in the class at all, so he hastily called out the class and left together.

There were very few people leaving the lecture hall, and I was packing up my belongings and was about to leave when an update popped up on my phone.

Yukiko Matsuda: Who saved 60 design drafts? I mean it doesn't get treated like garbage.

The appearance of this news made countless classmates who had not yet left the classroom cast resentful expressions at Yukiko Matsuda, all with a little bitterness.

There was silence in the group.

Yukiko Matsuda: Is it useful to stare at me?

Shotaro Ichijo: By the way, did he say that he didn't accept garbage?

The crowd who were originally stung by Yukiko Matsuda's words to the point of speechlessness launched a group mockery against Ichijo Shotaro.

I turned off my phone's mobile data switch and left the classroom with my backpack on my back.

Sixty design drafts......

My cranial nerves were aching. I thought about this semester's design and production class, hanging.

But is it not just schoolwork that makes me uneasy?