"Mom, can you take me to the studio here." Some of the images that flashed in my mind became clearer and clearer, and some things were about to come out.

Yan Mu couldn't deny it, and took the empty hand to change directions.

"Xi'er, you have to remember that you are six years old this year!"

"Xi'er, this is a gift from your mother."

"Xi'er,"

……

The feeling of getting stronger and stronger hit Xi's heart, and the hand holding the rattle unconsciously tightened a little.

Mother Yan seemed to sense the anxiety of analysis, and her pace quickened a little, and the two of them finally stopped in front of a special door.

Why is it special?

Unlike other places, this door is colorful and unorganized, and it looks like a child is playing with it.

I guessed that it was my masterpiece.

Without stopping, the two pushed open the door and walked in.

In an instant, he was stunned!

There was something strange in the black and white eyes, and the tip of the finger holding the rattle turned white.

"Xiao Liangxi, what's wrong with you?" Seeing that Yan Mu didn't leave, she turned her head and asked, and found that the young man's face was a little ugly, and she began to get anxious, "What's wrong, your face is so bad and you're sick?" ”

He let Yan's mother's hand probe the temperature on his forehead, and shook his head to indicate that it was okay.

But he looked more and more carefully at everything in the room.

The scene in the dream and the picture in reality slowly coincided, almost incredibly identical.

Outside the window is exactly the same mountain, but because of the season, the color is lighter. But the shape can still be seen to be the same as the picture in the dream.

Are the brushes exactly the same? If anything, there are two fewer people in this room, less women painting and less girls standing nearby.

Is it a coincidence?

Believe it or not!

When he walked in, he found something different.

According to the dream, in the middle is supposed to be her birthday present when she was six years old, the portrait of herself. But now this is not the case, and in the middle is indeed a picture of a woman holding a girl.

"That's not right!"

What about her birthday present?

What about her six-year-old?

"What?"

Mother Yan only heard the young man muttering and asked.

The boy shook his head and swept his gaze around the room, all kinds of paintings, so that he didn't have a chance to look at them one by one.

A birthday gift for yourself......

It's gone?

Then Yan's mother saw the young man walking slowly around the room with his head down, flipping the painting on the ground with his hand.

"Xiao Liangxi, what are you doing here?"

But he only saw the young man waving his hand at him.

Suddenly he paused, picked up a painting in the middle in front of the window, and suddenly a smile broke out on his face.

His birthday present,

Got it!

But why, will be put here.

The analysis was taken out but there was no next move, and I looked at it carefully, and the painting was very good, and the whole person was lifelike!

He put down the painting and stood up, not moving.

"Little Liangxi! Let's go to the living room and sit down. ”

Mother Yan smiled lovingly, looking more and more luxurious. Unstoppable temperament.

Xi nodded, still holding the rattle in his hand, and followed Yan's mother out of the room.

"Mom, do you know what my mother likes best?"

That gentle and strong woman, she likes it very much, and she is the original mother, with a sense of intimacy.

"Xiaxia! She likes flowers the most, especially the flowers on the other side. ”

"She had a ring of the other side flower, and it went with her. The stud earrings on your ears were designed and built by her. ”

After analyzing it, he raised his hand to touch the ear stud at the earlobe, and felt the warm current.

The other side of the flowers?

Good.

……

The suffering in front of you is only temporary, life is still long, after surviving those painful days, your life will slowly become beautiful and vast, life is difficult, there are always small joys, and those small joys, little by little, constitute the life we yearn for.

- "Life is Little Joy"