Yet he was still an ambitious man. Whether it is Zhang Haidi's story or Hawking's story, it always inspires him. He loves to read stories like this.

He started writing novels, interesting personal stories, about people he knew. The novel is beautifully written, but there is always some malice in it. That's how men write novels, it's not that they can't write beautiful stories, but they always have to add a few poisonous weeds to them, as if only in this way will such novels appear more profound. Very few male writers are able to step out of the box.

Since he became disabled, he has written novels that are both beautiful and have more poisonous weeds in them.

However, from a practical point of view, such a novel is meaningless. His observations and brushwork are unusual and unique, but there is nothing real, nothing that is really within reach. His novels and stories seem to take place in a vacuum. However, because our life today is itself like an illusory stage, these novels have a strange reality.

Zhang Haifei has a morbid sensitivity to his novels. He wants everyone to think they're good, they're the best, they're genius, they're the pinnacle of work. His novels have been serialized on the most popular websites and have been appreciated and criticized as usual. These criticisms were torture for Zhang Haifei, and they stabbed him like sharp knives. It's as if his whole life was in his novels.

Huang Siyao did her best to help him. At first, she felt very excited, her man did not sink, he was crippled. He talked to her monotonously and persistently about everything, and she tried her best to respond. It was as if her whole soul and body were in high spirits, and she entered into his novels. This made her so excited that she completely indulged in it.

They had very little material life, and she had to take care of the housework. But that nanny had served Zhang Haifei's father for many years, that self-righteous woman, you can hardly call her a nanny, she had been in the Zhang family for twenty years.

Mr. Zhang insisted on hiring a new chef who had served him in his Shenzhen house.

As for the rest, the place seems to be in a mechanically unmanaged state. Everything is in order, absolutely neat, absolutely precise.

However, in Huang Siyao's view, this is just a state of order, and without warmth to organically unify them, the whole house is as gloomy as an abandoned street.

What else could she do but go with the flow? So she let it be.

The eldest sister-in-law, Zhang Haini, often comes here to see, she has a thin face, and when she finds that everything is still the same, she feels quite proud.

She could never forgive Huang Siyao for banishing her from the intimate relationship she had formed with her brother. It should be her, Zhang Haini, who publishes novels with him and publishes these books. Zhang Haifei's novel, the new thing in the world, should be made by their sister and brother.

When Huang Siyao's father came to Huidong for a short stay, he said to his daughter in private: "Zhang Haifei's works seem to be extraordinary, but there is nothing in them. That's not going to last long. ”

Huang Siyao looked at this burly old cadre of state-owned enterprises, he has been at ease all his life. And then her eyes, her large, curious eyes, were blurry and moist.

What does it mean that there is nothing in it? Professional book critics praise his works, Zhang Haifei's name is known to almost everyone, and he still has a lot of money to pay every month. Her father said that Zhang Haifei's works were empty, why? Is there anything else in his work?

Because Huang Siyao has adopted the standard of young people: what is in front of you is everything. The moments that accompany each other do not have to belong to each other.

In the second winter of her arrival in Huidong, her father said to her: "Si Yao, I hope that the circumstances will not force you to be widowed, and you can consider remarrying." ”

"Widows?" Huang Siyao replied indifferently, "Why not?" I don't think it's bad! ”

"Unless, of course, you want to!" Her father said.

When only her father and Zhang Haifei were together, her father said the same thing to Zhang Haifei again: "I'm afraid that the life of a widow is not suitable for our family Siyao." ”

"Is it just to keep the empty room alone?" Zhang Haifei asked rhetorically. Make this statement clearer.

After Zhang Haifei pondered for a while, his face began to turn red. He was angry, he was enraged.

"Why not for him? Is this the kind of life I want? He asked forcefully.

"She's emaciated, she's like a withered rose. This is not what she is. She is not a dried sea fish hanging under the eaves, she is a live noon fish. On our shore, it was a lively fish. ”

"Of course, I know. The liveliest kind! Zhang Haifei said slowly.

Later, he wanted to talk to Huang Siyao about the matter of being a widow, but he couldn't open his mouth. He was too close to her, and at the same time not intimate enough. He and she are very integrated in their spirits.

But physically, they don't have contact with each other. Neither of them could stand it, and they forced the topic to such a thing. They were so close and yet so strange.

However, Huang Siyao guessed what her father said to Zhang Haifei, and also guessed that Zhang Haifei had an idea in his heart.

She knew that Zhang Haifei didn't care if she was a widowed woman or a romantic woman, as long as he didn't know for sure, as long as he didn't let him see it. If the eye does not see, what the mind does not know does not exist.

Huang Siyao and Zhang Haifei have been in the countryside of Huidong for almost two years. They lived their lives peacefully, perhaps boringly, preoccupied with Zhang Haifei and his writings.

They pondered the structure of the text, discussed the paragraphs, and studied the psychology of the readers. Sometimes I laugh and make a little joke with the reader about where to plant a poisonous weed.

～～～～～

However. Huang Siyao felt as if something was happening, really happening, really happening in nothingness.

Huang Siyao often goes to the yard and walks in a forest connected to the yard, enjoying the loneliness and mystery, she looks at the withered leaves that do not fall in the autumn, or picks the wild flowers and weeds in the spring. But it's all a dream, or rather a phantom of reality.

In her mind, she herself is a character that some readers have read about. And she herself is just like the leaves that wither in autumn but do not fall, or the weeds and wild flowers on the roadside in spring.

This kind of life with Zhang Haifei, this endless weaving of the storyline, and endless discussion of psychological details, her father said that there was nothing.

Why is there anything in the novel? Why should they last long?