During that whole night of gathering, Yang Zhao was absent-minded.
The exquisite food on the table, the conversations of relatives, and the laughter of children are all far away from her.
What they thought, what they cared about, could not enter her heart.
But she is not alone at all.
When she gazes at other people's smiles, she thinks, I have them too.
I also have things that make me laugh out loud just thinking about them, and I have people whose mouths curl up just by saying their names.
I have it too.
So she found a strange way to communicate with them, and they talked, and she talked. They laughed and she laughed too. It's not pretentious, and it's not against your will.
It's just that in the process of their communication, there seems to be a shallow film.
Thin and transparent, they filter each other's voices.
Yang Zhao really wanted to go home.
The old man was old and couldn't stay up too late, so he went back to rest before ten o'clock.
Yang Zhao's father was responsible for sending the old man home.
Others stay here for New Year's Eve.
Yang Zhao's mother came to her side while she was free.
"Xiao Zhao, what are you doing sitting here by yourself?"
Yang Zhao smiled at her and said, "It's nothing, I ate too much just now."
Yang's mother said: "I didn't see how much you ate, why did you eat too much?"
Yang Zhao said, "That's because you didn't see clearly. I ate a lot."
Mother Yang nodded.
She didn't leave, and sat firmly beside Yang Zhao. Yang Zhao looked at her, and Yang's mother said, "Xiao Zhao, you are a little absent-minded tonight."
Yang Zhao lowered his head and said flatly, "No."
Yang's mother said: "I am your mother, can my daughter's mood look bad?"
Yang Zhao didn't speak.
Mother Yang was also silent for a while, a sudden silence separated the mother and daughter.
The mother and daughter were connected, and slowly, the silence changed.
They know each other, what the other is thinking. Yang Zhao was waiting for her to speak, but Mother Yang's expression was flat, she had no intention of speaking at all.
In the Yang family, if you don't talk about it, it means it's worthless.
So the silence turned into a confrontation.
Yang Zhao didn't want to back down.
After a while, a relative came over and chatted with Yang's mother.
Mother Yang chatted with her smoothly, as if what happened just now hadn't happened at all.
Yang Zhao stood up and left.
Mother Yang was behind, looking at Yang Zhao's back, silent.
"What's wrong?" The relative noticed Yang's mother's expression, and she also turned to look at Yang Zhao.
"It's nothing." Yang Zhao smiled at her, and said calmly, "My daughter has grown up."
"That's right." The relative also had a girl himself, and said with emotion: "When the girl is older, it's not easy to manage. But Xiao Zhao's personality is up to you, and you can see everything clearly, so you don't need to worry too much."
Yang Zhao's mother said lightly: "Well, I will always think it through."
At twelve o'clock, everyone in the house welcomes the New Year together.
At the gala, several hosts were counting down the seconds. Yang Zhao lowered his head, secretly took out his phone, and edited a text message.
"Ten, nine, eight—"
After Yang Zhao finished writing the text message, he skillfully typed a string of numbers in the recipient column.
"Five, four, three, two, one! Happy New Year!"
The last second passed, and the sound of firecrackers outside the window suddenly became denser. Looking out of the window, the fireworks lit up half of the city.
Everyone in the room smiled and wished each other well.
Yang Zhao lightly pressed send.
It was a short message, just like everyone said to each other, Yang Zhao wanted to say to him—
Happy New Year.
Chen Mingsheng, Happy New Year.
At 1:30 in the middle of the night, Yang Zhao packed up his things and went home.
Yang Jintian originally wanted to go back with Yang Zhao, but Yang Zhao did not agree. She asked him to stay, and when Yang Jintian asked why, Yang Zhao only told him: "My sister has something to do tonight."
Yang Zhao was driving the car. New Year's Eve in this city was sleepless. It was past one o'clock, and the streets were still very lively. Some are setting off whips, some are hurrying, and some are burning paper at the intersection.
When Yang Zhao was waiting for a traffic light, he saw an old man burning paper at the crossroads. The wind in the north was very strong in winter, and the burning paper was blown up. Orange sparks still flashed in the air a few times, and finally turned into ashes and dissipated.
In fact, according to city regulations, it is not allowed to burn paper on the street. Yang Zhao has never burned paper, but she doesn't dislike it either. It can even be said that she has a full understanding of the old pale yellow paper and the orange-red flame when it is lit.
That simple piece of paper carries people's purest wishes.
It was past two o'clock when Yang Zhao returned to Huaken Golden Seat. She didn't want to disturb Chen Mingsheng's rest, but there was no way, she had already given him the key.
Yang Zhao didn't know if he was fast asleep, so he rang the doorbell.
Almost immediately, a voice came from the door—
"coming."
The voice was very similar to his usual voice, low and gentle.
Yang Zhao heard the sound of crutches and slippers alternating.
It turned out—she thought to herself, so standing outside, waiting for the door to open, was such a mood.
With a soft click, Chen Mingsheng opened the door from the inside.
The moment he opened the door, he was looking down at the lock. After opening the gap, his gaze went from bottom to top, and finally fell on Yang Zhao. Yang Zhao stood outside the door with his hands behind his back and looked at him.
Chen Mingsheng took off his coat and put on a vest. The room was very warm.
Yang Zhao looked to the side and said, "Hey, I also turned on the air conditioner."
Chen Mingsheng smiled and said lazily, "It's cold."
Yang Zhao said, "Aren't you going to invite me in?"
Chen Mingsheng turned his body sideways, Yang Zhao walked in, raised his hand as he passed by, and shook the plastic bag in front of him. The smell of food wafted from the bag.
Yang Zhao said, "Are you hungry?"
Speaking of this, Chen Mingsheng spoke up.
"Is your refrigerator just for decoration? There's nothing in it."
Yang Zhao said, "There is water."
Chen Mingsheng nodded, and walked behind Yang Zhao with a cane. Yang Zhao entered the kitchen carrying a plastic bag, and put the food on the plate after a while.
"Let me warm it up for you." Yang Zhao said.
"No need, it's not too cold."
Yang Zhao felt his eyes go dark, and stretched out an arm in front of him, taking the plate from her hand away.
He was tall, and Yang Zhao looked up at the plate being taken away, helpless.
At the dining table, Chen Mingsheng ate big mouthfuls.
Yang Zhao sat opposite him and said, "When did you come back?"
Chen Mingsheng stuffed his mouth full of rice and said, "Morning."
Yang Zhao said, "That was before the phone call."
Chen Mingsheng smiled and nodded.
Yang Zhao said, "To surprise me?"
Chen Mingsheng looked up at her inadvertently, and said, "Are you surprised?"
Yang Zhao crossed his arms and said flatly, "I'm pleasantly surprised."
Chen Mingsheng said with a smile, "It's really not easy to see."
Yang Zhao was taken aback for a moment, and then he didn't speak for a long time. Chen Mingsheng noticed and asked her, "What's wrong?"
Yang Zhao thought for a while and said, "Chen Mingsheng, am I indifferent?"
Chen Mingsheng paused. He didn't expect why Yang Zhao asked this suddenly. He shook his head and said, "No, why do you think so."
Yang Zhao said, "How did you feel when you saw me for the first time?"
Chen Mingsheng held the chopsticks and leaned on the back of the chair, seemingly reminiscing about it. Finally, he tapped his chin and said solemnly: "My first feeling is that you are rich."
Yang Zhao: "..."
Chen Mingsheng picked up the bowl, took a few more mouthfuls of rice, and said, "To be honest, that's all. Actually, I saw it before you went upstairs."
"Um?"
"When I was downstairs." Chen Mingsheng said, "I was standing in the corner, next to the window, and I saw it when you parked the car. I was thinking at the time, I was unlucky this time."
Yang Zhao didn't understand, "Why?"
Chen Mingsheng said: "For people like you, losing money is a small matter, and being wronged is a major matter. At that time, I thought that you must blackmail me severely, or go to court."
Yang Zhao: "Did I extort money from you?"
Chen Mingsheng looked at her and didn't speak - or rather, he didn't dare to speak.
Yang Zhao was expressionless.
Chen Mingsheng finally spoke, "It's not a lie, a decimal."
Yang Zhao didn't say a word. In fact, she really meant to make things difficult for him at the beginning.
Chen Mingsheng didn't care at all, and said, "Actually, it's really not money extortion. I had such a long and small gash once before—" Chen Mingsheng raised his hand holding the chopsticks, held them, and then touched them with his index finger and thumb. Opened it, gestured a distance of about five or six centimeters, and said, "That man wants me to be worth one hundred thousand."
Yang Zhao said, "Did you pay?"
Chen Mingsheng smiled and said, "How is that possible."
Yang Zhao said, "Then, how did it end?"
Chen Mingsheng stopped holding the vegetables, recalling something, his eyes seemed to be focused for a moment, then he looked at Yang Zhao, smiled softly and said, "It's nothing, that's it."
Yang Zhao didn't ask again, she looked at the hand holding the chopsticks, and said flatly, "Don't just eat meat, eat some vegetables too."
Chen Mingsheng nodded, "Okay."
After eating and washing up, it's already three o'clock.
They were lying on the bed in the bedroom, Yang Zhao was wearing pajamas, leaning against Chen Mingsheng's chest. She was very tired and sleepy. She didn't want to sleep, but her eyelids couldn't help but drop down.
She distracted herself and talked to Chen Mingsheng.
"Are you asleep?"
"No." Chen Mingsheng said.
Yang Zhao said, "It's already so late, why don't you sleep, aren't you sleepy?"
Chen Mingsheng said, "I'm fine."
Chen Mingsheng's chest was broad and warm, like a huge hot spring vortex, enveloping Yang Zhao in it. She smelled the faint scent of soap on his body, and the smell of tobacco that seemed to last a lifetime, and she was a little addicted.
"I drew a picture," she said.
"Really." Chen Mingsheng said, "What did you draw?"
Yang Zhao said, "Nothing."
The sound of firecrackers outside was finally reduced, but occasionally, there was still a sound coming from the deepest part of the city.
On such a night, the content of the conversation is not important to them at all.
All that matters is the process of speaking.
These conversations may not have passed through the brain, but they are said slowly and reflexively. Perhaps when the sun rises, they don't remember what they said, nor what the other party said.
The only thing I can remember is that they talked.
In the long New Year's Eve, dragging their tired bodies, they embraced each other.
When daylight came, they would part again.