Bai Fumei in the ’70s

Chapter 75

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Zhao Lanxiang heard the man's low and hoarse words, and saw that his ears were slightly red, and her cheeks were also red.

Heart like honey.

How can there be such a lovely man.

He Songbai's innocence and naivety were not possessed by an old man, and poked her palms to the point of sweating warmly.

Zhao Lanxiang squeezed his rough hand and said angrily, "Go to work tomorrow!"

He Songbai touched the back of his head, smiled naively, without speaking,

The next day, He Songbai put on new clothes according to Yan.

He knew that when he came to collect debts in a big city, he must dress better and not lose his momentum to others, so he brought two new clothes made by his partner for him.

When He Songbai went out, he was slightly taken aback when he saw Zhao Lanxiang.

Zhao Lanxiang put on a snow-white shirt, and the wide hem was casually tucked into her trousers. The pure black trousers wrapped her two slender legs, and her spirit was neat and clean, with a touch of sunshine.

When she saw him, she beckoned, and walked briskly to his side, her jet-black hair was very flowing.

"Let's go."

Zhao Lanxiang took his hand and boarded a car with him.

Soon, she took him to a photo studio.

"I haven't taken a photo with Bo Ge'er yet, let's go in and have a look."

She communicated with the staff of the photo studio and decided to take two versions of the photos. One full body photo and one half body photo.

Although the cameras of this era are backward and the framing is limited, there is no doubt about the photographer's skills and professionalism.

When taking a full-body photo, I took them to the yard under the Teng tree, Zhao Lanxiang sat on a chair, and He Songbai stood behind her with his hand on her shoulder.

The photographer pondered this shape for a long time, and let them pose for a long time before they were willing to click the shutter.

Zhao Lanxiang smelled the fragrance of hibiscus flowers that were about to wither on the tree, and she picked up one from the ground and sniffed it. The woman's gaze contained a kind of still tenderness, as if nostalgic or reminiscence, as if passing through time, and the photographer captured this scene with a flash of inspiration.

After the photo was taken, He Songbai, who was wearing a tunic suit, unbuttoned the buttons and breathed a sigh of relief. There was a lot of sweat on his forehead, and taking pictures was really a kind of torture for a rough man like him.

Zhao Lanxiang smiled and said: "We are leaving here tomorrow, can you give us the film directly?"

The employee nodded, carefully sealed the film, and instructed thousands of times: "Don't let it be exposed, it will be useless when you see the light."

Zhao Lanxiang smiled and put the film in the package into the bag.

After this "business" was done, He Songbai breathed a sigh of relief and wanted to take Zhao Lanxiang to play.

Zhao Lanxiang shook his head and did not agree.

She seemed to know that he was short of money to do something big, and she was reluctant to spend his money.

Zhao Lanxiang said happily: "There is very little time, but I want to finish visiting S City. Brother Bai, let's make a bus."

It only costs five cents for a bus trip, and I can't make five cents for a whole day.

Zhao Lanxiang's happy appearance convinced He Songbai.

He Songbai secretly bought her a brooch on the street, held it tightly in his hand, and followed her to the bus.

Zhao Lanxiang rested her head on her arm and asked him with a smile, "I'm curious how you got the debt."

On the first day she found Zhu Housheng, the man came back with nothing, and she knew that Zhu Housheng wanted to lose the money.

He Songbai hesitantly, under her burning gaze, half confessed and kept half.

"People with a bit of status generally want face. I go to the factory to make trouble for a few days, and he will be honest."

As for the other half, he bought a few vicious gangsters, pretending to be creditors and besieging the factory where Zhu Housheng worked and the door of Zhu Housheng's house every day. Later, Zhu Housheng jumped over the wall and wanted to call the police, but the gangster beat him up with a sack, and he was honest.

However, this kind of slightly dark thing is still not told to her.

He Songbai added: "He is bullying me as a foreigner... If he finds a few locals to support him, he will be so honest that he can't be more honest."

More than being honest, at this moment, Zhu Housheng, who was lying on the bed with his old waist groaning, scolded Mrs. Li for betraying the IOUs to others. It's all old and old accounts from so many years ago, and they deliberately turned them over. It's really stingy!

Those rascals are really rascals!

Zhu Housheng hugged his old waist in fear and asked his son, "Go out and take a look, are those people outside still making trouble?"

Zhu Housheng's son works in the government, and he has lost all face to Laozi these days. He reluctantly said to Zhu Housheng: "Have you not paid off the debt yet?"

The poor Zhu Housheng family never saw the real "creditor" He Songbai from the beginning to the end, and they were satisfied that Mrs. Li had pledged the IOU to someone else to exchange money, and the real creditor had become those vicious local gangsters.

He Songbai coughed lightly and said, "To get the money back, this matter is over, don't think about it!"

Zhao Lanxiang nodded with satisfaction. They rode the car all the way, from the bustling market to the outskirts, where the densely packed bungalows and red brick houses gradually turned into small earthen houses, grass huts and mud walls in the countryside. There were only two passengers left in the car.

He Songbai silently put the brooch into Zhao Lanxiang's hand.

"Give you."

Zhao Lanxiang opened her palms, saw the silver gardenia-shaped brooch, narrowed her eyes, and her eyes became dark.

"Give it to me?"

He Songbai nodded with red ears.

It is not without reason that Zhao Lanxiang likes gardenias. The perfume on her body still smells like this. This is because the old man loves this smell very much, and she also likes Wujiwudi.

Zhao Lanxiang kissed him happily, while the driver was not paying attention, while the suburbs were sparsely populated.

The car stopped, and there was no one to get on for a long time. The driver took a rest for a while and then turned back the same way. The fresh and cool wind from the suburbs blew in from the window.

He stroked the woman's soft, long hair.

She whispered softly:

"When you're old, your hair is gray, and you're sleepy."

"Sit tired by the fire and take this book down."

"Love the marks of the years on your mourning face."

"Bending his brows beside the furnace hood, meditating and muttering."

He Songbai's face was as hot as fire.

How love is gone, how to walk up the mountains, how to hide your face among the stars.

Many years ago, Grandma Li was holding her young grandson with difficulty, waving a fan of palm palms, and reading while fanning.

Read the letters Grandpa wrote to her.

He Songbai silently turned his face away, red from the roots of his ears to his neck.

In the afternoon, a round of sunset sun from egg yolk gradually sank into the mountains. The temperature plummeted and became slightly cooler.

The two people who had finished taking a few bus routes, one was full of smiles, the corners of his mouth seemed to be smeared with oil, and the other was silent and silently followed behind.

After returning to the hostel, the two began to pack their luggage for the next day's train ride.

He Songbai folded the clothes one by one and opened the box. Eight brand-new "Longines" brand watches reflected cold silver light.

He silently took out the eight watches, put them in his pockets, and left the guest house.

The author has something to say: *

"When You Get Old"

—William Butler Yeats, 1893

When you are old and grey and sleepy,

Sitting by the fireside tired, took down this book,

Read slowly, the eyes of chasing dreams

Your soft look and deep vignetting.

How many people have loved your short-lived figure,

Loved your beauty with falsehood or truth,

Only one has loved your pilgrim heart,

Love the traces of the years on your mourning face.

Bending down by the stove hood,

Sorrowful brooding, murmuring,

How love is gone, and how to walk up the mountains,

How to hide your face among the stars.

small theater:

Mr. Pingsheng:

Brother Bo, you actually hid eight Longines! Eight!

It turns out that the big guys are secretive :)

Brother Bo: Silently touching the back of the head, not speaking