Coming out of the maternity and infant hospital, the butterfly crossed the South Shaanxi Road and turned onto a small road, which was narrow enough for a car to pass. There are few cars on the road, because the weather is getting warmer, and there are more and more pedestrians, shuttling and enjoying the early spring sun. Some cyclists swooped by like ghosts, clouds sweeping across the road.

Butterfly suddenly thought of the martial arts books she read when she was a child, and those knights were all equipped with unique skills, or flying on water, or flying on the wall, and they were very successful. My favorite is none other than Jin Yong and Gu Long, if you want to talk about the characters, maybe the heroines like "Lu Xiaofeng and Chu Liuxiang" in Gu Long's novels have also made butterflies obsessed for a while.

Even if you have seen some butterflies in Jiangnan houses, you know that the wall is really low. Maybe today's Olympic gods can do it, which is not unusual. Anyone who has ever seen surfing knows that it is the most exciting and radical battle between man and nature.

It is surrounded by old alleys, and along the street are two-storey houses, and a deep alley suddenly appears between the buildings, which will take you into an extremely complex and obscure world. If it weren't for the bricks, walls and tiles that are complaining about human feelings and right and wrong, as well as the countless dark rooms and Chen Ge, there may not be Wang Anyi's "Song of Long Hatred".

Butterfly knew that his father had lived in such a world when he was a teenager, and in his own words, those lives gave him endless pleasures and memories. She has no life experience at all, so she naturally doesn't understand her father's reluctance to give up her feelings for this kind of trembling, old house that is full of old and strange smell all day long.

The first thing she saw from birth was the rectangular houses at four corners, standing there like building blocks, row by row, neat and regular, looking like a person with architectural obsessive-compulsive disorder. Later, she discovered that this architectural compulsion was perpetuating throughout China.

It is because of this surprising consistency that many separated cats and dogs cannot return home. It also made her, who was still ignorant, also in a trance not know which home she was in, whether it was her grandmother's house or her father's house? Looking at the door number downstairs of my father, I will ask: Why didn't my grandmother come out to pick me up today?

Dad smiled dumbly and said, "Little fool, you have arrived at Daddy's house."

She looked at the building, her immature little face was still suspicious, and said: But, how can you look the same as your grandmother's house?

However, after careful observation, she still found out the difference, the door of her grandmother's house was always piled up by the first floor of the house, and the staircase of her father's house was relatively clean, there were some plants at the door, and there was a forest in the distance, and there was a lonely dog in the woods. She was glad to see the dog, and she was both happy and afraid.

As an adult, she likes to talk about these old houses with a perspective that is above life. Dad was a little dismissive, but Butterfly thought it was an artistic scrutiny.

The old houses in each place are the landmark buildings that truly reflect the characteristics of the city, so that the city can precipitate its context and flavor in history. If there were no Suzhou gardens, it might not be a water town in the south of the Yangtze River. If the Demon City is just the rectangular phalanx buildings of these obsessive-compulsive disorders, or just one or two tall and abrupt Optimus Pillars standing in the city occasionally, it does not mean that it is the Demon Capital. New York, Tokyo, Seoul, where is there no such building? There is no such architectural ghost that the architect considers himself a masterpiece?

And the current magic capital is fanatically pursuing this strange taste. The United States blew up the Twin Towers, and the magic capital began to be keen on this kind of big guy. Prepare to push the foundations of the city a few more centimeters below sea level.

If all these old houses in a city were demolished and replaced with the same houses, what kind of future city would it be?

Designing life is the art of design itself. There is no building that is truly recognized by history that is detached from the origin of life. But Butterfly believes that none of these so-called landmarks in the magic capital can be related to the daily life of ordinary people. More just as a place for business. Or a pure landmark.

Does this make sense?

A city is slowly losing its character......

The butterfly strolled and walked, and didn't think about it, he felt greasy and uncomfortable in his chest all the way, and at noon Fang Yun's husband brought back a sauce duck ribs rice, which tasted good, but it was too greasy, and there was an oily piece under the dish.

She wanted to push it to her husband, but her husband said with a blank face that he had eaten.

Butterflies are not good to refuse.

Fang Yun shook off on the side: "You don't care about him, you can eat it while it's hot." ”

Her husband stepped aside like a shadow, long silent in his world. His world didn't seem to have anything to do with this noisy ward or Fang Yun's children.

The butterfly, who had always eaten lightly, finally swallowed the two pieces of fat ducks, because Fang Yun was smiling and watching her eat. Perhaps, watching butterflies eat is happier and more satisfying than eating by herself.

And at this moment, this greasy sauce duck seems to be still there, and it is a little uncomfortable. She thought, go for a walk and digest it.

Inadvertently walk to Huaihai Road, which is one of several prosperous commercial roads in the magic capital. When Butterfly used to work at the newspaper office at the opera house, she used to walk this street, but she didn't come often after she left. Some of the shops on the small road here are actually very distinctive, and Butterfly knows that there are several record shops near Xiangyang Road, and she has visited more than once, and many of them are classical music that the students of the conservatory need. But these records have become antiques in a drawer.

On the other side of the road, there are a number of boutiques with unique hats, shoes and clothes, no matter what style and fetish you have, you can find your own style here. When a little woman comes here, she will love it. However, now, in the era of Taobao, it is estimated that these small stores are also facing special challenges.

Today the butterfly is not interested in any of this, and she feels that she needs to drink a strong cup of coffee or tea to relieve the discomfort in her stomach.

She walked along the Huaihai Road, letting her eyes wander around. The spring sun sprinkled on the body, warm as if it was about to melt the ice of winter. When passing by a Starbucks, among the coffee customers along the street, there was a couple who suddenly made butterflies beat inexplicably. The beautiful girl with flowing hair and a long windbreaker looks like Liao Yingchen in that memory.