Meng Xintang still slept in the previous room, and Shen Shiyan followed him in, saying that he wanted to change a painting.
"What kind of painting?"
Shen Shiyan pointed to the wall: "My mother's painting is a year older, so it's time for a new one."
Meng Xintang watched him open the cabinet on one side, revealing a wooden box. When he opened the lid, he saw that there were many scrolls inside. Shen Shiyan fiddled twice and took out one of the rolls. Meng Xintang helped him remove the picture on the wall.
The newly hung painting shows a small child sitting in the courtyard with a cat lying on his lap.
"Is this when you were eleven?"
Shen Shiyan tied the painting he took off and put it back into the cabinet gently.
"Well. At that time, the old Gu family had a cat, but when it died, they never raised it again."
Meng Xintang closed his eyes and pondered. He guessed that Shen Shiyan's mother should paint a picture for Shen Shiyan every year until she died unexpectedly. He didn't know how many paintings were in the cabinet, but Shen Shiyan hung a ten-year-old painting at the age of 30, and an 11-year-old painting at the age of 31. Then, maybe his mother died when he was 20
"There are 20 pictures in total. If I take good care of it, I can probably hang it for three rounds."
Shen Shiyan said this, with a relaxed smile on his face, without any sadness. He quickly said to Meng Xintang to go to bed early, and turned to go out.
Meng Xintang grabbed his wrist when he passed him, stopping him from leaving.
"Let's sleep together."
Meng Xintang didn't know how he said such abrupt words, he just looked at Shen Shiyan and thought so.
Dreaming about juvenile affairs late at night. Shen Shiyan woke up suddenly in the middle of the night, because he was too hasty to run after his mother in the dream.
When he opened his eyes, there was chaos, and it took about two or three seconds before he felt the gentle breathing of the people around him. In fact, he hadn't had a dream about his mother for a long time. He glanced at the painting on the wall through the darkness, and there was an emotion in his eyes that he had never seen before. Maybe it was because he just fell asleep and pressed his shoulders, and it was a little sore. Shen Shiyan lifted the quilt and planned to change his posture.
Meng Xintang on the side seemed to be sleeping very lightly, and woke up when Shen Shiyan rolled over. The two of them covered a quilt. Meng Xintang saw his exposed back and pulled the quilt up for him, asking what was wrong.
"It's okay." Shen Shiyan said softly.
With his back to Meng Xintang, he did not turn around.
"Does your shoulder hurt?" Meng Xintang's voice was a little hoarse, and before Shen Shiyan could answer, he raised his hand to cover his shoulder, "Did you get overwhelmed by sleep?"
"maybe."
Meng Xintang's strength was just right, neither heavy nor light, and soon, the original soreness disappeared. Shen Shiyan touched the hand on his shoulder and said softly, "Okay." Meng Xintang put down his hand and re-tucked the quilt for him. When he touched Shen Shiyan's neck, he realized that there was still some thin sweat there.
The quilt they covered was not thick, and the weather was cold, so they should not sweat.
"Why are you sweating? Not feeling well?"
Shen Shiyan shook his head, rubbed against the pillow, and made a small sound, he sighed, raised his hand and rubbed his eyebrows: "Sometimes, I still miss them."
Shen Shiyan had never said this to anyone, not even Xu Yanwu. Maybe it was because he changed his painting today and there was another caring person lying next to him. His thoughts seemed to suddenly increase a lot, so much that his heart couldn't hold it.
Just now he dreamed that he was still young and playful, he deliberately did not practice the piano well, and his mother frowned and punished him for copying the piano score. He lost his pen and refused to write, and his mother turned around and left, saying, "Shiyan is not good, and my mother is angry."
When he saw his mother leaving, he panicked, and hurriedly chased after him and shouted, "Mom don't leave, I'll copy me!"
The piano score that I copied that year was "Moon's High". My mother said that this piece is said to be "The Song of Neon Clothes and Feather Clothes" written by Emperor Xuanzong of the Tang Dynasty, and people now choreograph dances based on this piece.
Shen Shiyan closed his eyes, letting himself end this memory.
In the silence, Meng Xintang's arm went over his waist, wrapped around him, and held his hand tightly.
"I know."
It's an intimate pose they've never had. Meng Xintang kissed his shoulder.
The next morning, Shen Shiyan probably hadn't slept well. When Meng Xintang got up at eight o'clock, he covered his head with a quilt and said he would sleep a little longer. Meng Xintang gently helped him close the door, went to the yard to wash up, took the key and went out.
Wei Qiming's teahouse serves morning tea and opens its doors at seven o'clock every day to welcome guests. Boss Wei was not here today, but the guys in the hall had already known Meng Xintang. When they saw him enter the door, one of them immediately greeted him and asked Mr. Meng what tea he would like to drink.
Meng Xintang waved his hand: "Don't drink tea, do you have any ink and large sheets of rice paper here?"
Since it is arty, it should have the four treasures of the study.
Sure enough, the young man nodded: "Yes, please ask for it on the second floor, and I'll bring it up for you."
The teahouse was still so lively, Meng Xintang shouted and followed the stairs upstairs and entered an elegant cubicle.
At half past nine, Shen Shiyan opened the quilt sleepily.
He opened the curtains and looked out, but he didn't see Meng Xintang's figure, but the flowers that should be moved outside were well listed in the yard, the doors and windows of the kitchen were all open, and the sun was dancing on the window lattices.
Shen Shiyan yawned, went to the table to get the glasses, just reached out but stopped - there was a stack of rice paper folded into a rectangle next to the glasses, and black ink stains could be seen.
Shen Shiyan was surprised and reached out to pick it up. When you open it, you can still smell the unique smell of ink and rice paper.
The writing is Xin Qiji's "Qing Ping Le Village Residence".
The eaves are low and small, and the stream is green. Wu Yin is charming in the drunk, who is the old woman with white hair
The eldest is hoeing Douxidong, and the middle is weaving chicken coops. I like the death of children the most, lying on the stream head and peeling off the lotus pods.
Inscription: Knowing the eaves of thirty and one, I wish peace and smoothness, joy and worry-free. The new hall was written on the sixteenth of the full moon.
So, this is what he wrote for himself early in the morning.
Shen Shiyan didn't know how long he held up the word in a daze.
It wasn't until his hands began to tremble slightly and his eyes felt sour that he came back to his senses, and started from the beginning again, looking at every word cherishingly.
And when I read the inscription again, when my eyes touched the words "safe and smooth", a surging sense of familiarity hit my brain in a flash of lightning. He stared at the four words motionlessly, and finally determined that he had seen it before.
Because he had just woken up and the blood was still not flowing smoothly, when Shen Shiyan picked up the somewhat heavy "New English-Chinese Dictionary", his curled fingers were so tight that it hurt. He pinched the black cover, opened it, and pushed aside the two pages of copying papyrus inside. The exposed line made Shen Shiyan stay there as if he was in a state of concentration.
The title page of the dictionary has a few words written in black ink, a simple inscription.
"Millennium, peace and prosperity. Meng"
Although the font has been slightly changed, it is still easy to see that it is from the same person.
In high school, there was a book corner in the class, and each classmate brought a book or two. When it was time for graduation, the head teacher asked everyone for their opinions and asked everyone to choose a book in the book corner to keep as a souvenir. He accidentally saw this title page, and without hesitation, he took this old dictionary, which seemed to have never been taken before.
At that time, just after SARS, Shen Shiyan remembered very clearly that on that hot summer night, he spent a night of self-study time copying these four characters, and he wrote several pages densely, stroke by stroke.
The fan once blew off a piece of paper with "safe and smooth" written on it. He carefully picked it up and brushed off the dust on it.
This "Meng" is Meng Xintang.
Shen Shiyan found that he had been sitting on a chair at some point, holding this dictionary in his hand. He looked at the words in a trance, unable to restrain himself, a stream of heat began to surge upwards. He closed the dictionary, pushed it away, and leaned over the table. When he calmed down again, he leaned his head on his arm and looked out the window.
In a trance, Meng Xintang's figure appeared in his field of vision. He came out of the kitchen with a basin of water, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, exposing his sturdy forearms. Shen Shiyan saw that he poured the water from the basin into the sink, turned on the faucet again, and dangled the basin to rinse it clean.
Shen Shiyan was lying on his stomach quietly, the autumn sunshine warmed his heart, and the courtyard seemed like a dream that couldn't be more beautiful.
It turned out that the love that he thought was found by chance and came naturally had long laid a foreshadowing in his life.
It would be great if they really met face to face. In that case, their first meeting was only 17.