06

That night, I called a taxi for her, and watched the headlights disappear at the end of the road, only to remember that I was the one who fell out of love today.

I deserve to be cared for and loved.

The comfort brought by drawing a knife to help her when the road was uneven, as she left, was like water in the palm of her hand.

I can't help but think about the past between me and Chu Yu, which is as beautiful as the immortal flower in a glassware. These memories may remain beautiful forever, but they will never come back to life.

The images of the past, like a slide show, kept scrolling in my mind, and every time I played it, my heart would empty for a few minutes, until it became the street in the early hours of the morning, empty, and only wordless loneliness remained.

I didn't go back to the dormitory, so I took my roommate to find a barbecue stand, two cases of beer, three plates of kebabs, and I didn't get drunk and didn't go home.

Sure enough, what kind of person should drink. The crystal glass, the shaking amber liquor, very romantic, but far away from me, beer and barbecue, just go well with me.

A week later, the sky was still gray, perhaps because the sky in Beijing had always been like this.

The headache of a hangover makes it difficult for me to lift my spirits.

"Brother Yan, aren't you going to class today?" My roommate asked me.

I shook my head and turned on the computer.

It's been a week since the break, and I'm a little apprehensive when I open the author's backend.

There was no update for a week, and I didn't turn to a comment sent by a reader urging me to update. Not a single comment was received, to be precise.

I smiled self-deprecatingly, and couldn't help but open Chu Yu's circle of friends, but there was still only one horizontal line, like an electrocardiogram after life came to an end.

The background of the cover wall has changed, and she is still as beautiful as ever, but unfortunately the boy next to her is as fat as a pig.

I closed my computer, leaned back in the cold chair with my phone, and stared at the WeChat page.

At the top of the screen, new messages are constantly scrolling, either news or advertisements. The WeChat page is always as calm as the sea when there is no wind, no one is looking for me, and there is no one I am looking for.

It's like a novel that has been broken for a long time and no one cares about it, even if it is unfinished, it will not be known.

Finally, a QQ message stayed at the top of the screen, the familiar screen name, who could it be besides the editor who signed me?

"Why did you break the shift?" The editor asked.

"It's not a big deal, I'm not in a good mood." I replied casually.

"Poor data?" The editor's screen name changed to the other party was typing, and I didn't rush to reply, I wanted to wait and see what he was going to say.

After about a minute, the other person was typing in the screen name that had changed back to editing, and I swiped back and forth through the chat interface to finally make sure that he hadn't sent a new chat.

I smiled self-deprecatingly and was about to close my phone when the editor finally replied with another message.

"It's okay, it's normal for the first book to hit the streets."

That's right, I don't need to say it next time.

After about another minute, I don't know why my eyes are still stuck in the interface of chatting with the editor, probably wandering.

"This is a group of authors, you can communicate with everyone more."

07

A month after the breakup, winter came belatedly.

There is very little snow in Beijing in winter, but the wind is very strong, and the wind hurts people's faces.

On the way to the classroom, the mobile phone QQ kept ringing, and I didn't have to think about it, it must be something discussing in the author group.

So I wrapped up my clothes and hurried to the classroom.

I found a seat in the last row of the classroom and started talking about my creative experience.

Soon, another active author in the group raised questions.

I don't like the feeling of being refuted in public, let alone online.

So I had a cordial and friendly exchange with him.

Unfortunately, there seem to be more people who agree with his point of view, so this turmoil came to an abrupt end after my sentence: "How can the real gods have time and water".

To my surprise, that night, there was a new application in my QQ address book.

I'm curious about what kind of person would use "goddess" as his nickname.

So I passed her friend request.

"Hello." She posted a shy meme.

"What's the matter?" I asked directly.

"I just listened to your sharing in the group, and I benefited a lot." She said.

"I thought you all agreed more on the other point of view." I say.

"Actually, it's okay, I write publishing-oriented novels, and my thinking may be more traditional." She said.

Traditions of thought? The ideological tradition still calls itself a goddess? I said in my heart.

"In fact, I think the difference between traditional novels and online novels should lie in the medium of communication rather than the creative technique." I continued to share my opinions, completely forgetting what I had said before - how can a true god have time and water?

The old professor was talking about the high-precision gyroscope on the stage, and I was talking about the "Liu's" creation method offstage, and the teacher was out of class, and I couldn't get enough of saying to her: "I'm here today, I'm going to eat." ”

It wasn't until I returned to my dorm after eating that I received a message from her reply.

A simple "thank you for sharing" plus a smiling face.

The use of this expression shows that she is indeed very traditional.

08

Before going to bed at night, I habitually opened QQ space. But I suddenly remembered what my roommate mocked me during the day:

"Who still uses QQ for serious people?"

He recommended WeChat to me.

I smiled and continued to brush the space.

I saw a new post from a friend who remarked the goddess:

"Tomorrow and yesterday's dreams, flowers and rivers, ancient cities and distant places, you and I love."

I casually gave her a thumbs up.

I continued to swipe the space, and my phone suddenly vibrate.

For a moment, I almost believed that Chu Yu had sent me a message, but soon, I remembered-

I've broken up with her and she'll never message me late at night again.

I cut to the chat interface with some irritation, and it was "goddess".

"Haven't slept so late?"

I glanced at the time, and it was almost eleven o'clock.

"It's still early, want to talk for a while?"

Actually, I want to talk to someone, no matter who it is, it's best if I don't know anyone.

"No, it's time for me to sleep." She sent a toothy look.

"Sleep so early?"

"The tutor is strict." She seemed to guess that I would ask.

"Good night."

She rarely posted a meme.

I clicked into her cartoon moon avatar and opened up her space.

She seems to like to post a message before bed.

From recording unforgettable moments in life to pretentious words that express her heart directly, it can be seen that she is a young woman of literature and art.

"It's a long time to be able to have it for 10 years."

She quoted Lu Xiaoyu's classic lines.

It seems that she is not only a literary young woman, but also a literary young woman with a story.

I didn't find a selfie of her in front of her, and I could only see her back when I appeared in the camera.

She stands with her back to the camera on the endless desert, with the sunset and lonely smoke in the distance.

The artistic conception is very beautiful, and her back is also beautiful.

Before you know it, the date has come to the previous year.

I found a video she posted.

She is playing the piano, and the camera captures her white arms from the side, slender fingers dancing on the black and white keys, melodious melodies flowing through her fingertips.

She played Richard Clayderman's "Dream Wedding," which was my favorite piece in high school.

This night, I opened the music app and looped the song.

It was also this night that I wanted to try to get to know her.

09

For more than a month, I would talk to her almost every day, from her creative approach to her favorite novels.

We share many of the same or similar hobbies, like Jay, love piano and literature.

She likes to write poetry, and occasionally sends me a small poem:

"Rotten bones hidden in the depths

Dawn and night intermingle into secrets

I fly in the deep valley

The cuckoo and the rose play the song of the wilderness

The dream sky descends into Osawa

Each star shines into a pupil

Find the lost river of the far-travelers

Heavy water overflowed the bridge

Blue brick stone carved red lantern

I looked out and shouted from the other side

I love you

And it's not just I love you."

The end of the poem is ambiguous and straightforward, but I pay more attention to the imagery in front of me.

I didn't like the slightly depressed expression, but she sent a smiling face and emphasized that she liked it.

When it comes to favorite authors, we send the same name in the chat box almost at the same time - Yasunari Kawabata.

"And which of his works do you like the most?" She asked.

"Of course, it's 'The Dancing Girl of Izu.'" I'll reply quickly.

"Me too, I didn't expect us to have a tacit understanding." She said.

"There's a lot more you didn't expect." I'm kidding.

"When I have the opportunity in the future, I want to go to Japan to see cherry blossoms." She said.

"The cherry blossoms in Wuhan are also good." I suggested, "There is also a cherry blossom garden on the Shahe Campus of Beihang University. ”

"Actually, it's not all about seeing the cherry blossoms." It was a long time before she replied.

Seeing that the other party was typing, I patiently continued to wait.

"I've been talking for so long and I still don't know your name." She abruptly diverted the subject.

Without hesitation, I typed the next line of words, "My name is Liu Yan, what about you", but my finger stopped on the send button and refused to fall.

I cut out the entire line, word for word.

I don't know why I suddenly regretted telling her my name, maybe only when I was wrapped in a screen name would I live more like myself.

My real name, gender, and identity are like one rule after another that cannot be disobeyed, and it is difficult for me to move an inch.

Maybe it was because I didn't reply for a long time, so she sent another message.

"No offense, just wanted to change a note for you."

My heart was inexplicably warm, like taking the hand warmer from a stranger in winter.

"Everything." I replied with a silly meme.

"You have told me a lot about creation, count me as half of my teacher, and I will give you a note Master."

"Then don't you give me three bows and five bows, and bow to the teacher?" I quipped.

"Begging for a beating!" She also had a fiery face emoji.

To be honest, I quite like this note, intimate but not too intimate, gentle and not ambiguous.

coincided with the explosion of the film and television drama "Flower Thousand Bone" that year, and this title also had some warm and soft metaphors.