At seven in the morning, the alarm clock rings on time. I struggled to wake up, still groggy from the sleeping pills.
Sitting on the bed to relax for a while, the memory of last night also recovered little by little with the awakening of consciousness.
In the past, as long as I had a nightmare, I couldn't remember anything the next day. The pain that was etched in my bones and made me tremble would still make me uncomfortable for a long time. But this time is different. In the fragmented flashback, the solid embrace in the dark and the soft comfort in the ear are too present, overshadowing the heart-piercing pain, as if it was another bizarre dream.
- Being alive is not a shameful thing, you don't need to apologize to anyone.
It's the first time someone has told me that, and it doesn't look like he's anything but his face.
A smile appeared on my lips, but I suddenly remembered that I woke up from a dream last night, I cried so hard, I was hugged by Shang Muxiao and coaxed for a long time. I held onto the clothes on his back, like a drowning person grabbing the last straw, and I didn't let go until I fell asleep again crying.
I buried my face in the palm of my hand, unable to believe that I would cry like that, or in front of Shang Muxiao.
I don't know how he will laugh at me...
With annoyed mood, after washing up, I did some psychological construction, and then I pushed out the door.
Shang Muxiao was nowhere to be seen on the sofa, and there was an inexplicable burnt smell in the air, as if something was burnt.
Surprised, I followed the smell to the kitchen, and saw Shang Muxiao sitting at the table eating well, with a takeaway bag on the side. table is full.
"Wake up." When he saw that I was awake, he raised his chin and motioned for me to go over for breakfast.
"What's mushy?"
"The porridge is battered." He seemed to be completely healed, his appetite greatly increased, two mouthfuls of flowers were rolled into his stomach, and he took another one before he swallowed it. It was a world of difference from yesterday's weak appearance, who couldn't eat any food. , "I wanted to cook porridge, but it was mushy in the blink of an eye, and then I ordered takeaway."
Glancing at the trash can in the corner, he said with disgust: "The pot is useless, I'm too lazy to wash it, I'll accompany you a new one next time."
I followed along and almost didn't recognize my little milk pot. The once fresh mint green shell has become blackened, and the enamel coating on the inside is stuck with a thick layer of coke, as if it has changed into a pot.
"No, it's old, and it's not worth a few dollars." I remember that there is a whole set of this pot. When I moved, Shen Luoyu gave it to me, saying it was a brand from abroad. The advantage is that it looks good, and the disadvantage is that it is expensive. The total price of this set she gave me was over five figures, which made her feel a lot of pain, and because this pot is expensive, I rarely use it.
Unexpectedly, it died so tragically in the hands of Shang Muxiao, and it was also fatal.
"Preserved egg and lean meat porridge, would you like it?" He lifted the lid of a plastic bowl and pushed it in front of me.
I nodded and went to get the plastic spoon in the takeout bag.
He didn't mention what happened last night at all, and he didn't show any intention of laughing at me, which made me wonder if last night was really just a dream I imagined.
"Has the fever gone?" Sitting at a table to eat and not talking is always a bit strange, so I can only try to find a topic.
"Retired. Left in the middle of the night last night."
"Have you contacted your sister?"
"Yeah." He took a sip of soy milk, wiped his mouth with a tissue, and finished eating, "I'll go home tonight."
After breakfast, I took him to the school together. Because of the different campuses he was going to, he got out of the car at the gate.
"By the way..." He opened the door and was about to get out of the car. I stopped him and told him about the death of Mr. Huang Lao from the psychological support group.
Maybe someone asked about Sister Liao's information. She sent a group message yesterday about the time and place of the funeral, saying that those who want to send Mr. Huang's last ride can attend, and those who don't have time don't force it, everyone can arrange it according to their own time.
The funeral ceremony was scheduled for this afternoon. I just had no class in the afternoon, so I planned to send him off.
"That old man is dead." Shang Muxiao's expression was light, and he didn't look surprised, "Are you going?"
"go."
He thought about it and said, "Then I'll go with you."
I was a little surprised, and thought he wouldn't go. After all, he also participated in a mutual aid group once, and maybe he didn't even remember how many people there were.
Finally, I made an appointment with him to meet at the school gate at two o'clock in the afternoon. He nodded and said he understood, got off the bus and left.
After class in the morning, after lunch, I read the documents in the office for a while, and I unknowingly became a little fascinated. If it wasn't for the message from Shang Muxiao that he was already waiting outside the school gate, I would not have found the time.
I thought he was going in my car, but when I looked at the door, there was a familiar blue and white heavy machine parked on the side of the road. The rider wore a helmet and supported one foot on the ground. Whether it was the scene or himself, it seemed that The model was shooting a poster, and even if she couldn't see her face, passersby looked at her.
I drove the car beside him, lowered the window and asked, "Are you following me?"
He opened his goggles, raised his eyebrows and said, "Why, are you still afraid that I won't be able to keep up with you?"
The subtext seems to be saying: "Just your turtle speed, I will let you not be afraid of ten yards."
Without saying a word, I raised the car window and drove in front of Shang Muxiao to lead the road. The 30-kilometer journey took only an hour.
The sun is good today, there is no wind and no rain, the temperature is low, but it will not make people feel cold, it is a good weather.
When we arrived, there was a circle of people near Mr. Huang's tombstone, and everyone was holding a white chrysanthemum in their hands, and their expressions were solemn and solemn.
At the end of the crowd, I don't know if it was the funeral service staff or the family members of the old gentleman. He was dressed in black and held a handful of white chrysanthemums in his arms. Seeing us approaching, he asked about our identities and gave me and Shang Muxiao a flower.
We stood at the end and could only hear vague voices in front of us. It seemed that Mr. Huang's son was delivering a eulogy.
After about two minutes, the eulogy was finished, and the crowd began to move, one by one to lay flowers.
Shang Muxiao and I were the last two to go up. The tombstone was already covered with flowers. The old man in the photo smiled very kindly and kindly. The place where the urn was placed was engraved with a line of dazzling gold characters—you are still young, you To live well.
He actually engraved this sentence as his epitaph. It was like... His last warning to the younger generation who came to attend the funeral.
The dignified emotions dissipated a lot, and my heart was a little funny, but also a little warm. Even in the cold season, I can always feel the slightest warmth.
The funeral ceremony was simple and brief. I saw a few familiar faces from the mutual aid group in the crowd. Everyone just nodded their heads from a distance and even said hello. After the funeral, they left without much communication.
I walked to the gate of the cemetery with Shang Muxiao. I don't know if he was affected by the funeral atmosphere. He seemed very quiet all the way.
"This is my first time attending a funeral." When he was about to reach the gate, Shang Muxiao suddenly said.
When I heard it, it felt wrong. It was the first time he attended a funeral, so where was he when his mother died
He seemed to have heard my heart, and continued in a flat tone: "When my mother held the funeral, I was not allowed to approach, so I had to be led by the nanny and stand at a distance. Because my father said that my mother would not want to see I."
It was clear that the sun was still warm, but after a while, I became cold again for no reason. Although my relationship with my parents is also very alienated and indifferent, it is not as incompatible as he is. It is really hard for me to imagine that Shang Lu would say such a thing to a five-year-old child.
"On the day she died, she asked me... if I wanted to go to a place with her. I've always been afraid of her, she never liked me, except for being angry with me, blaming me for ruining her career, I feel that it's not good She refused. She suddenly became very angry, pushed me out of the door forcefully, and threw me into the rain, no matter how much I cried, I would not open the door." Having said this, he laughed, "I grew up. Only then did I know that she was going to take me to Huangquan, which is really not a good place."
"Everyone said she was ill, and she didn't want to do that, and asked me to forgive her." He was walking in the sunshine, but his voice was so cold that it fell into ice, "but it's not my fault that she's ill, why can't I hate her?"
At the gate, my car and his car were parked not far away. He stopped, and I couldn't help but follow.
"Her paintings are full of vitality and have beautiful meanings. Looking at those wonderful colors, my heart will automatically calm down. She gave the best side to others, and the worst side to me."
That's why he wanted to destroy "Garden View", to destroy what he thought was disgustingly false. He grew up under the scolding of his parents since he was a child, and did not get a trace of warmth from them, only his sister was everything to him.
And now, Shang Yunrou no longer belongs to him alone.
He stood in front of me with his hands in his jacket, an invincible 20-year-old, but his eyes were full of boredom and resentment towards this world.
You are still young, you have to live well. He also saw this sentence, but he didn't know how to live well.
"This is also the first time I've attended someone else's funeral," I said. "Twelve years ago, when three friends who were in a car accident with me held the funeral, I was still in bed and couldn't get up."
Shang Muxiao was not surprised at all, facing me with a calm face.
"As you can see, I'm still in a nightmare, and I can't get out of the car accident."
I don’t know since when, the idea of reconciliation with the world has been popular everywhere. There must be no sorrow or joy, no resentment and no hatred, pursue inner peace, and take the responsibility of becoming a Buddha on the ground. It seems that carrying selfish desires is inferior, and showing hatred is unacceptable.
"Schopenhauer believed that to eliminate the pain of life, the first thing is not to cut off life, but to achieve the extinction of the will to life through abstinence and asceticism. When the will disappears, people will no longer suffer. From this, it is true that you are still alive. Instead, it is the expression of those extreme emotions, those uncontrollable desires to vent, and the moment when doing things that can only bring "pain"."
I stared into his eyes and said slowly, word by word, "So, it doesn't matter if you can't let go. Not everything can be easily erased from life."
It doesn't matter if you don't reconcile, it's okay to hate, life is a magnificent red flame, and these indelible desires will make it blaze and grow stronger.
He may have heard of this theory for the first time, and he tilted his head slightly for a long time.
"...Is it okay if you can't let go?"
"It's ok."
"Is it okay to hate her?"
"Can."
He was silent for a while, looked at me with a half-smile, and leaned down at me without warning.
"Okay, I'll listen to you."
Before I could realize what he was going to do, I felt a very light touch on my face, and the soft touch felt like it was electrified, numbing the half of my body that felt normal.
"This is your reward for taking me in these days. Let's go, see you at school tomorrow." Like a bear kid who succeeded in mischief, he ran away after kissing, waved at me backwards, and turned around his blue-and-white bike Heavy Machinery.
I was still in shock and could only watch him go away.
When I couldn't see him at all, I raised my hand, gently touched the piece of skin he had kissed with my fingertips, then quickly closed my hand and clenched it into a fist.
Returning to the car like sleepwalking, he glanced at the rearview mirror and found that his entire face was red.