On the weekend, Zheng Siyi picked up Zheng Yu and went with Zheng Hanweng to a large ocean park that had just opened; Zheng Siqi was free and returned to Li University to return several periodicals borrowed from the borrowing room.
The Qingming Festival is approaching, the rain is frequent, the apricot rain and pear clouds are beneficial, and the vegetation is lush, quiet and wide.
Occasionally I met students who had taught public classes, and they all nodded politely and smiled, and called out "Mr. Zheng".
When he chose to teach at a university, Zheng Siqi admitted that he had a mentality of escaping from the world; for so many years, he was not obsessed with evaluating professional titles.
Zheng Siqi knows that his inertia is contained but not revealed but cannot be eliminated. It is one thing to be too smooth, and the other is to see the world too much. It's as if he can understand a person like Qiao Fengtian, the hard bones and bones crawling between his hands and feet, but he can't agree with his sacrifice, his forbearance, he only shows one ten thousandth of the pain.
As in Zhang Ailing's "Withering Flowers". Laugh and the whole world laughs with you; cry and you cry alone. The world is not lacking sympathy for the grief of others. As long as it's dramatic, fake sadness, they're okay with it. But when they really met someone who was in pain, they only opened their eyes and said, "This woman is thin! I'm afraid to come!"
Zheng Siqi studied famous scholars and did not like the roughness of Zhang Ailing's writings, but some of her subtle world theories are indeed sharp and old-fashioned.
On the way to the parking lot, I flipped through a few pages of news about people's livelihood with my mobile phone, and saw the follow-up report on Qiao Liang's accident at a glance.
Two or three unremarkable press releases were crowded into the densely packed headlines, with exaggerated quotations, but the whole writing was very indifferent. It is nothing but accountability and indignation, and it is necessary to point directly at social norms and systems in the first place.
Zheng Siqi read it with a frown, thinking that he hoped not to let Qiao Fengtian see it, this is not an article with good things to say. A photo is attached at the end of the article. I don't know which reporter took the camera from which angle. Qiao Liang was lying on the hospital bed, and his face was unclear; half of Qiao Fengtian's side face was defocused, and the blur appeared in the right corner of the photo.
Zheng Siqi raised his head and quickly turned off the screen.
When leaving the South Gate of Lida, he deliberately turned around a big bend and went to Sunshine Street at the back door. When he passed Qiao Fengtian's barber shop, he rolled down the car window.
No one was seen, there was only the big boss with a tall light scoop and a round-faced worker in the shop. Afraid that someone didn't come out from the compartment, he stepped on the brakes, put the gear on and released the handbrake, tilted his head and waited for another minute. No one came out, not really.
Zheng Siqi couldn't help but sent a text message and started the car.
"Not in the store?"
Five minutes later, he wrote back, "In the hospital."
After reading the content, Zheng Siqi didn't rush to the second ring road to drive home, but turned around at the intersection and went straight to the elevated road. It was only when it was close to the Municipal Party Committee Hospital that I sent the news again.
"I'll take a look and give me a ward number."
Zheng Siqi parked the car in the temporary parking space in front of the hospital, and went down to a flower shop called "Rainen". The pavilion is not big, a few square meters, filled with buckets of fresh flowers. Zheng Siqi asked for half a bunch of carnations and half a bunch of tulips, and handed them to the clerk to carefully tie the green silk with a checkered pattern.
After paying the money and going out, Zheng Siqi was wondering whether to buy a fruit basket or a carton of milk. Qiao Fengtian, his old man, called him in a hurry.
"Don't come. Seriously, the nurse won't let you in, and you won't bring anything with you. Everyone will be murdered and you will be kicked out when you come."
Zheng Siqi clutched the flower, stopped and stood on the sidewalk, "... don't tell me sooner."
"What's wrong?"
Zheng Siqi raised his hand and put down his glasses, "... just bought a bunch of flowers."
"...You didn't say it again." There was an untraceable complaint in his words.
Zheng Siqi listened to the silence on the other side, breathed evenly for a moment, and then whispered, "I'll wait for you under the row of cedar trees under the north building, there's a pond there. Then, that bunch of flowers... If you buy them, give them to me, or else ...don't waste it anyway."
Zheng Siqi hung up the phone and couldn't help but be happy.
Tulips and carnations are rich and flamboyant flowers that are too aggressive. Sending patients can bring joy. If they really want to send them to Qiao Fengtian, Zheng Siqi feels that it is particularly inappropriate. It doesn't go with him at all, it's not something that hangs all the way.
It must be compared. He is more like a poplar and willow. He is thin but not weak. Even if it is really like "forgetting autumn and zeroing" as people say, he will not bend his back easily. Very similar to his temperament.
Zheng Siqi walked to the side of the silk fir, and saw the newly chiseled small pond. Occasionally, family members pushed the wheelchair and took the patient to wipe past them, with a bitter and bitter taste of the medicine. He held the flower in the crook of his arm, and could only vaguely see a figure on the shore. Due to his poor eyesight, he was so close all the way forward that he couldn't tell whether it was a man or a woman.
Qiao Fengtian tilted his head, raised his hand and shook it.
But after three or two days, Zheng Siqi looked at him as if he had lost weight again. The mandibular angle used to have clear lines, but now it has become sharp and sharp, like sweeping the profile of soot there, smoothing out the flesh and blood that was still full. It is said that when people lose weight, their facial features will also change. Zheng Siqi approached and looked at his face, and it was true. The mountain roots in Qiao Fengtian's eyes were prominent and bright, and the contours of his face became deeper and clearer.
It's just that the wound in the mouth has not been cleaned up, and the place where the silkworm lies is greener and greener.
"Have you lost weight?" Zheng Siqi pushed his glasses and stopped beside him.
Qiao Fengtian looked at his arm and wrist, "I haven't weighed it, so I shouldn't have." Although it was difficult for him to grow flesh, it was not so easy to lose it.
"I look like."
"It looks like it." Qiao Fengtian smiled and touched his face, "I didn't sleep well, and I lost my life to look thin, right?"
"Maybe." Zheng Siqi changed the flower to the rest of his hand, "You have to be a little fatter."
Qiao Fengtian took half a slice of square-cut toast from his pocket and wrapped it in the bag, as if he hadn't finished eating it in the morning. He pinched a small piece of his face, crushed it into crumbs between his fingers, and tossed it among the sparrows poking around on the lawn behind him. The bird's eyes turned up and down, flapped its wings twice, and nodded more happily.
Qiao Fengtian squatted down with one knee on the ground, took two steps forward, and threw a small handful of crumbs.
"Do you have any tips for gaining weight?"
Zheng Siqi listened, lowered his head and followed the end of his hair, and saw three straight joints protruding from the back of his neck, "Do you think my figure looks like someone who has a knack for this?"
"That's not to say that your friends and colleagues around you are fat people." Qiao Fengtian stared at a white-headed duck with a bright color in the corner of his eyes, who was pacing from a distance to grab food.
"Really, the fat is much fatter and the thinner the less." Zheng Siqi also squatted halfway, "how do I say... We, men who do desk work, once they're over 30 weight can't stop the car and grow like crazy, it's better than eating fish. Kathleen is normal."
Qiao Fengtian turned his head to look at him up and down, and turned back with a smile in his eyes, "Then why do you have a unique style of painting?"
"That explains."
Zheng Siqi didn't hold back when he arrived, and also took a piece of bread and threw it forward, "I have a good character."
Qiao Fengtian's smile finally overflowed his eyes. The piece that Zheng Siqi lost happened to hit the pointed beak of the plump white-headed duck. The little guy was so frightened that he blinked back and forth, fluttered his black wings aggrievedly, twisted his butt and flew towards the sun.
Yes, what he said is not false at all, his character is really good.
Zheng Siqi invited Qiao Fengtian to have a casual lunch, and Qiao Fengtian followed.
I searched for a small-scale Subang dish, and ordered Biluo shrimp, cherry meat, and a small pot of Taihu whitebait soup. A square and simple antique stage was built in the center of the lobby, and in the middle sat a young girl in a light makeup cheongsam, holding a pipa and singing Suzhou Pingtan in a low voice. Wu Yu listened to Wan Wan softly. As for whether they were authentic, both of them were laymen, so they couldn't judge.
Qiao Fengtian seldom comes to eat in such an exquisite place, not to mention the price, it is not necessarily better than his own cooking.
Putting the flowers aside, Zheng Siqi poured him a glass of clear jasmine, "I've never tried this one, but Subang dishes are generally sweet."
He looked at him, the word "sweet" blurted out and suddenly remembered that Qiao Fengtian didn't eat sweet, "Can't you eat it?"
Qiao Fengtian only paused, and Zheng Siqi understood.
"Let's change." Zheng Siqi said apologetically, "There's another one ahead, why don't you go to that one?"
Qiao Fengtian held Qing Jasmine, "It's alright, I'm used to eating." He also said three words, and suddenly remembered that the man on the other side was inexplicable and somehow didn't like him saying "It's alright", so he coughed again. Cover up, add, "It doesn't matter."
Zheng Siqi didn't insist much, nodded and lowered his head to flip through the menu next to him.
"Change the cherry meat to crab yellow hibiscus, it shouldn't be so sweet."
Qiao Fengtian knew very well that the other party was a thoughtful and thoughtful person who did everything in a suitable manner. This was just after the meal, and this kind of cognition may have to be deepened even more.
Zheng Siqi is wearing a short khaki trench coat today, with a slightly stand-up collar and two rows of simple and generous metal buttons. The color unexpectedly rhymes with the color of the legs of the glasses.
When he turned things, his posture was very good-looking, his fingers were naturally arched, and the arc was natural. If you have a book instead of a menu, it must be more elegant and more flavorful. Qiao Fengtian lowered his head to drink tea, wanting to see Zheng Siqi quietly reading a book under the lamp for no reason.
Will you hold your chin, will you bite your nails, will you pick up a pen when you see a wonderful sentence, and then write a paragraph, like the red silk in the Moon Lake Temple, so neat and handsome.
The water-like trace of the three words "Qiao Fengtian" on the silk is still in Qiao Fengtian's mind. Except for the character "feng", "qiao" and "tian" have few strokes, and few people can write the three characters in a proper proportion and the same juanxiu. Qiao Fengtian himself is a turtle crawler, and he never expects or requires other people's writing style.
But good writing is always a plus, always excellent, always charming.
Especially in the dwarfed contrast, it can show the extraordinary excellence of one party.
Zheng Siqi suddenly spoke with a smile on his face.
"Is there something on my face?"
"Ah?" Qiao Fengtian was stunned, then shook his head, "No..."
"Then you've been staring at me?"
"I do not have."
Qiao Fengtian didn't think about it, and blurted out evasive words.