Almost at the same time, another father and son were holding each other's arms, leisurely walking leisurely through the pointed stones of the town of Grande, which had been worn for centuries, and on which the sun shone like copper coins; In the middle of the street there are two deep dents, the marks of the ruts left by the carriages, and on either side of them are the shadows cast by the awnings of the shops—the town of Grande is mostly two- and three-story houses, and the inhabitants have large and small shops on the ground floor of the houses, one next to the other, all kinds of things—velvet sofas, small coffee houses with small white marble tables and aluminum counters, family groceries with round heads and round heads in glass jars with loose wormwood strips and cane candy, lingerie shops dressed up like pink cakes, and clothing stores with photos of male or female models (usually wearing a pair of jeans that fall below their knees) in floor-to-ceiling windows; Two or three electronics stores with the latest music/video players, mobile phones or tablets for the season...... In short, everything a boy or girl between the ages of 14 and 18 thinks and needs.

The most are bookstores, some of them are spacious and bright, with fresh air, while some are the opposite, and you can find Stephen from inside? William? A book on special relativity written by a prominent opponent of Stephen Hawking, or a naked, candid "rabbit" magazine with your pages...... As you please. There are many kinds of family members, each with its own characteristics, and if you wish, you can sort out as many as five as Balzac did (note 1).

One of them sat in front of his shop, sparkling eyes looking with interest at everyone who passed in front of him, the door of the bookstore was not very wide, and everyone who wanted to go in had to rub his knees to get in. The fact that the shop has not closed down so far is entirely thanks to a distant, sharp-eyed relative who has always been able to pick out good and cheap goods from the unsalable containers, both old and new, by famous or unknown authors, but the books themselves are basically classified as "valuable" – sometimes the administrator of the Grand School Library would come here to pick up the books.

Thick and thin books are roughly divided into categories, stacked on top of each other on shelves, you can pick your own, and pay when you go out, with a small box left at the boss's feet. He stuffed the money inside.

A pair of black, soft sheepskin shoes like cotton stopped in front of the bookstore window, and the trousers of the same color folded neatly. The boss looked under the erect eyebrows—an older man, thin, tall, with a snow-white shirt and gray-blue eyes covered in a delicate pair. Obscured by his glasses in black titanium, his nose was as sharp as a bird's beak with a slight hook, and his lips were brighter than those of a woman who had rubbed lipstick—he turned his head and smiled.

"Can you show me this book?" Mr. He said.

"You can walk in and take it out. You can see it as much as you like. The boss said, moving his body in awe and stepping out of the way, "I don't have any precious books here." It's just about everyone who likes it - do you like that book too? Sir, I think the cover is still very good, so I put it in the window. ”

"Isn't it?" Anthony. Mr. Hopkins said he strode into a bookstore, which smelled of ink and paper. The sun was dusty. His son followed him silently like a well-behaved puppy, purple-blue. Inquisitive eyes were glued to the book—a drooling golden lip on the cover, saliva all the way to the bottom half of the peach-colored cover, and a set of ghostly characters on top.

"Andra's joke," Sasha said.

"Yes, but this is the native language version, and Andra wrote and published this novel in his homeland, three editions in a row, and it was sold out in one fell swoop—it was so amazing that some people noticed him and the book, and now Andra was out of luck - who made him say something unpleasant in it? Those in power insisted that he was insinuating and slandering a great regime, that his books were listed as **, not allowed to be bought and sold, and not allowed to be collected, and that he himself was denied the right to work and to breathe fresh air freely. - I've been looking for this version, the first language is completely different from the second language," Dr. Hopkins said mildly, "You can read it after dinner, and don't be swayed by the seemingly obscure political words—which are actually the revenge of a stupid big boy." ”

"Thank you." Sasha said that he had grown a lot more in the past six months, and it was not difficult at all to get close to his father and give him a loud kiss.

"Oh," said the ghoul, "a genuine, good kiss, my dear," and he said, "you have more to gain than you have gained—what shall I do?" ”

"You can pick a few more books for me," said Sasha, "and dinner, and although the salmon is not available until October, the geese here are delicious." ”

"But then I'm going to lose a little bit of money," said Anthony. "Give me one more kiss and I'll get a cup of absinthe I made myself," Hopkins said. ”

***

The sunlight shines through the glass window, and the books are hot and soft by it.

Less than two and a half feet from the shelves, a size that would feel cramped to most people, light and dust piled up on top of the rows of tightly packed books, and a few fourteen-folio books that had not been put back in place because customers had left in a hurry or were irresponsible, leaning on their sides and hanging in mid-air, like a tree sticking out of its branches, and the great Hopkins would stretch out a finger to push them back into place as he passed them—to sprinkle sand. Hopkins stayed where he was, found a decorative wooden staircase, sat down on his knees, and looked at the book "The Joke" intently.

In the memory of the boss, there is such a painting that he remembers deeply, the content and meaning of the picture have long been thrown out of the clouds, the author's name has been forgotten, the only thing he can remember is the bright blonde hair and rosy cheeks of the characters in the painting, the innocent posture and the gentle and pleasant expression--people feel relaxed and happy at a glance, reverie and reverie-now this living painting is placed in front of his eyes, he no longer cares about the sparse pedestrians on the street, Instead, he thought about the boy who sat less than five feet away from him. The boss also had two sons, but for him they were two noisy, distraught little bunnies who hadn't saved a day of their father's heart since they were swaddling – like two locomotives that never stopped, rumbling and rumbling – taking away beef sandwiches, orange juice, milk, money, cars, and clothes, leaving a choking cloud of smoke and dust. They never sat quietly in the sun and read a book for a while, and rarely kissed their old dad or said "thank you." ”

"If someone were to make a movie about them, I would think it was too fake." The boss said sourly in his heart: "How can there be such a beautiful and docile good child? ”

Maybe they weren't father and son, the boss thought, but he immediately denied himself - just because he was also a father, he could still tell the sweet and vague tacit understanding that swirled between his limbs and his demeanor.

He was so engrossed in his mind that he couldn't help but be startled when Dr. Hopkins walked up to him.

"It's as light as a cat." The boss complained in a low voice and flipped through the book: "Twenty dollars, sir." ”

Hopkins paid, and Sasha stood up, took the books, and tucked them under his armpits.

The doctor looked sideways a little and looked at his child, who had already entered his teenage years, vibrant, clean and beautiful, like a verdant hill covered with white crocus.

Perhaps only he could see the undercurrents hidden.

"How's Beelzebub doing?" While waiting for the appetizer, Hopkins asked bluntly.

Sasha paused, "Not bad. ”

"But you're always a little uneasy." "And not very jolly," Hopkins said. ”

"I ......" the boy had a rare look of hesitation on his face, "I just don't know what to do." ”

"It's nothing," said Anthony. "It's inevitable at this stage—do you find that he's getting a little impulsive, irritable, even a little stupid," Hopkins said calmly. He's making up lessons, reading, taking exams, playing rugby, bathing and eating, like the other hundred and seventy boys in Grandrie, he's changing, he's correcting himself, and you feel like he's become a little bit less like Beelzebub. Bisandi? You want to stop it, you want to interrupt it all but you don't know what to do about it - because he's still Beelzebub, it's his choice, his emotions, his life, you can't force your way into it, because he's your friend, and you know that friendship is based on respect.

You respect his choice, even if it terrifies you.

No, it is not only Beelzebub that you are frightened about, but also yourself...... My child, you are changing, you have many that no longer belong to that's Sasha. Hopkins' stuff. Your life is no longer just you and me—you can't get used to it, you feel like you're becoming weak, sluggish, vulnerable," he touched the child's eyebrows lovingly across the table, "Why, dear? You have also had to separate from me before because of outside forces, you are not afraid of pain, you have never worried about harm or even death, you have always been brave and unwavering, what is it that makes your fear tremble?

- You thought that what you went through would change you, and one day, you would no longer be the Sasha I loved. Hopkins. ”

(To be continued)

Note 1: One of the chapters of Balzac's Disillusionment is the fifth type of bookstore owner.

ps: Thank you for the drunken dream, a few electricity, Corrosive Heart and Predator 2012 adult dumplings and tips!