Reading The Remnants

Chapter 67: It is not allowed to see white heads in the world (4)

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Li Shiyi took a rare nap, and when he woke up, Song Shijiu had already twisted the handkerchief on his face. Li Shiyi opened his hazy eyes and turned to look at her. Song Shijiu moved the handkerchief on his forehead a little bit, connecting it to her line of sight through the lingering heat.

Li Shiyi retracted his gaze, turned his head, and the tendons of the beauty were stretched.

Song Nineteen blinked. Normally, when she and Li Shiyi looked at each other, she was the one who couldn't resist for three or four seconds, but this time Li Shiyi retreated, even though she had done enough to retreat. Easy to do.

She tilted her face, dipped the towel in the water, swung it three or two times and twisted it again, sitting on the edge of the bed and handing it to Li Shiyi.

Li Shiyi took it with one hand, rubbed his temples with his eyes closed, and pressed it twice between his eyes. She moved her lips, as if she didn't know what to say, she only cleared her throat and said, "Thank you."

thanks? Song Nineteen raised his eyebrows in surprise, and gave Li Eleven a serious look.

The atmosphere at the moment was unprecedented, and it was even more ambiguous than ever. Her brain was a mess, and the pain was as if Sister Tu had unloaded Tu Sishun's belly. It was loose and sore, and even the movement of raising his hand was a little difficult.

She gritted her teeth and raised her arm, put it on the other side of the shoulder socket and rubbed it, although she didn't remember what she was doing, but after thinking about it, she still confessed her mistake in a low voice: "Don't be annoyed, I won't drink alcohol anymore. already."

Li Shiyi was startled, took off the cool veil on his face, and gave her a complicated look.

For the first time, she saw a look of grievance in Li Shiyi's eyes.

She felt Li Shiyi's hesitant to say anything, turned her ears and waited for a while, but seeing that she had nothing else to say, she only sighed lowly, handed her the towel, and sat up with backhand support, half-length The hair is softly curled in the neck fossa.

She got up and got out of bed, moving slower than usual, and asked Song Nineteen, "Does your head still hurt?"

"It hurts." Song Nineteen said honestly.

Li Shiyi pushed his hair aside, put on his jacket and bowed his head with a "uh", then said, "Go down, I'll make sober soup."

Song Nineteen nodded, and stretched out his hand to stroke his hair. She didn't know if it was an illusion. She felt Li Shiyi's gaze paused between the movements of her fingers, and then she turned her head and went downstairs as usual.

When I got downstairs, I met Ah Luo who got up early to read a book, but I didn't see Ah Yin. I asked about the five coins that I had swept the floor, and the five coins found a note, saying that I woke up early, went out to eat Chongqing noodles, and bought a few side dishes when I came back. Hit the stove at noon.

"What do you mean by playing a side stove?" Song Nineteen asked.

"Cantonese, hot pot." Li Shiyi leaned against the stairs and handed the note back to Wu Qian.

Song Nineteen nodded and went to the kitchen: "Is Ah Yin from Cantonese? I often hear her speak Cantonese."

Li Shiyi paused and said, "No."

Out of the corner of the eye, it fell on Arrow's place inconspicuously, and Arrow stopped turning the book, holding the cover with his left hand and tapping lightly on the edge of the title page with his right hand.

Chenguang is very contradictory in the scattered mountain city. The light is blocked by the high and low buildings. The circuitous detours seem to be somewhat graceful. Show some kind of boldness and enthusiasm.

However, after only one day of living, a neighbor whom I met yesterday greeted Ayin with a small wallet, knowing that she was from the north, so he asked her in a not-so-dignified Mandarin: "Yaomeier wow, wake up early?"

Ayin didn't know why her aunt became the youngest sister when she arrived in the southwest, and she didn't know if she had anything to do with Mrs. Tu, but she didn't care too much. Walk forward with the waist of the water snake.

She was not a hard-working girl originally, but when she saw this stone road yesterday, she had some inexplicable memories and unresolved premonitions.

The hunch finally took shape when he heard the hesitant "A Yin" word behind him.

Ayin looked back and saw that it was a man who was not very tall. He had short hair and was very energetic. The light-colored suit was made of acceptable material. Very long, too beautiful to grow on a man's face.

A Yin frowned, and asked him, "Are you—"

If it was in the past, she would have laughed immediately, regardless of whether she recognized it or not, it was a sigh when she went up, but she looked at the man's slightly trembling fingers, the Adam's apple sliding up and down, and the faint light in his eyes, and she always felt that. He is not.

Should not be a benefactor.

Hearing her words, the man's eyes dimmed with loneliness, as if he had blown out the oil lamp. A Yin stared into his eyes, and suddenly a word stuck in his chest.

She stretched out her hand, held the silk and tapped it in the air, then pulled it back against her lower lip, suspiciously: "It's you? Are you—"

The oil lamp in the pupil lit up again, and the man stepped forward three or two steps and said, "Yes, yes. I am, Ping!"

A Yin pondered for a while before answering, "A Ping?"

She looked him up and down. There is such a Ping. When he was a child in the south with his master, he lived next door, Cantonese boy. He was always bullied by a few bad boys because he spoke a bird's voice. Ayin couldn't see it. back.

Ah Yin has a fiery temperament and is a good learner, so the boys didn't dare to speak loudly, so they scattered in a swarm.

Since then, this Apping has followed her.

A Yin beamed with joy: "Maybe it's been years, isn't it? How are you, okay?"

"Okay, okay." A Ping lowered his head and glanced at his ashes. Over the years, he has become more articulate, and his speech is not much Cantonese. It can be seen that A Yin is still only one or two of the top three. Character.

"What about you, is it good or bad?" He stretched the hem of his suit, trying to cover up some awkwardness. I thought I was living well enough, but when I saw A Yin's exquisite cheongsam, neat sideburns, coquettish red lips and fair cheeks, I suddenly realized that nothing had changed in the past ten years. Is to look up to a lifetime.

"Me," A Yin smiled lightly, with small brackets on both sides of the corners of his mouth, "Okay, it's not good."

One of the four great joys in life is meeting old acquaintances in a foreign land. However, many times, when we meet again after a long absence, what we meet is not the old acquaintance in front of us, but the self who has been thrown into the depths of memory. It brings that person to you by surprise, makes you look at the time of many years, and asks you through the mouth of others - how are you, how are you

The answer is usually wistful and confused. If you say it badly, you can't help Chunfeng's proud face, if you say it well, you can't help but feel sorry for Qianfan's exhausted heart.

So Ayin just pulled her ears and hair, hiding the story in the pause between "good" and "bad".

Fortunately, A Ping didn't ask any further questions. He was completely immersed in the joy of the reunion. He shoved the sweet biscuits he had just bought into A Yin's hand, and asked her where she lived before sending her back.

A Yin didn't say anything, but stopped at the entrance of the alley, said goodbye politely to him, and went back to his residence with his wallet leisurely.

The old wooden door was pushed open, and what greeted her was Aro's gaze. A Luo moved a low stool and sat in the yard to choose vegetables. Seeing A Yin coming back, he didn't say anything else, he just lowered his head and did the movements in his hands unhurriedly.

A Yin leaned against the door to look at her, the wallet in his hand knocked on his thigh, and suddenly felt that this scene was a bit absurd.

In the book, the mighty and god-like Lord Yama, sitting on a wooden bench with four legs on different sides, in front of an iron basin the size of a washbasin. It's like a work of art, and anyone who sees it will be reluctant to get it stained with spring water.

She said goodbye to Ah Ping, looked at Ah Luo, and suddenly felt a sense of discomfort. She should have thought that the mortal Ah Ping, who was a childhood sweetheart, was down-to-earth, and the ghost who met by chance, Yan Luo, was imaginative.

But she thought it was the exact opposite.

She walked over, hooked up a stool at random, sat next to Aro, put her hands in her lower abdomen to warm her, and asked her, "How did you do this?"

Aro said: "Didn't you say that you want to eat hot pot at noon?"

A Yin patted his head and smiled: "I forgot, and I didn't buy the food."

Aro glanced at the pastry she put in her hand, without saying a word.

A Yin pursed her lips, watched her choice of dishes for a while, and asked her, "Do you usually cook?"

"No." Aro shook his head.

A Yin buried her head and pulled back the wrist on her lower abdomen. For a while, she felt that she had nothing to say to her, but what was unusual was that she did not want to end the conversation with A Luo. She looked at the figure outlined by the sun on the side, soft and weak, like a little girl, as if you could make her frown unbearably if you were louder.

She thought that if she was really just a little girl, she would probably say a word or two more if she wanted to say something to her.

A Yin let go of her lips and suddenly asked her, "You people from Mount Tai are immortal and immortal, right?"

"Yes." Arrow said.

"Like a zombie," A Yin smiled, looked down at his heels, and said softly after a while, "What's the point?"

Aro stopped and raised his eyebrows to look at her.

Ayin explained: "Let's live for once, because it's rare. After a total of decades of life, we naturally have to save our lives, and we have to live like we do. If there is no end, there will be no life and death, no more. Fear, what hope is there, what is there to cherish?"

Aro raised his head, stared at her for a while, then took the handkerchief on the side, wiped his hands carefully, and shook his head: "The fear is not death in the first place."

Aro frowned and listened to Aroman's voice: "It's loss, it's forgetting."

"Fear of losing loved ones, fear of losing love and hatred, fear of forgetting what should be remembered, fear of forgetting what you want to remember." Death is nothing but the embodiment of loss and forgetting. If death does not mean the end, there is nothing to fear. The place.

A Yin was stunned. Seeing A Luo looking at her, she said softly, "I am also losing and being forgotten, so I am also afraid."

Afraid of not being chosen, afraid of not being cherished, afraid of doing useless work.

She has a lot of time, and thus nourishes a lot of patience, but this does not mean that it is endless. She was also tired, worried, tired of persistence and unsupportable.

Aro caressed the cheeks of the person in front of him with his eyes. For the first time, he desperately hoped that she would understand all the efforts he had made.