Tobacco River

 　　Maltese blue roses are artificial flowers, like my story with Zhao Qingjia, full of wishful thinking and reluctantly whitewashed contrivance.

　　1

　　For Zhao Qingjia, I should be a qualified tool person.

　　I took elective courses for him that he didn't like, queued for half an hour for him to buy the hottest milk tea outside the school gate, and acted as a non-staff labor force for his club on call: diligently packed the lunch box from the third canteen to the The activity room was handed over to the members one by one. In the end, their face flushed with the voices of "sister-in-law" one after another, and they explained it to the fullest: "I and your president are just friends!"

　　Although, this is not my intention .

　　When I approached Zhao Qingjia in college, it was premeditated. In high school, naturally curly I used a black rubber band to tie a mess of curly hair behind my head. On sunny days, the dry ends of my hair would explode like a wilting firework. Some troublesome boys in the same class got inspiration from this, and made up a jingle to sing in the corridor. I was so angry that I smashed a Chinese book through the window and hit the back of Zhao Qingjia's head.

　　At that time, I didn't know his name, so I could only apologize in a panic if I accidentally hurt someone. The phrase "I'm sorry" was repeated several times. Fortunately, he didn't care too much. He just turned around and rubbed the place where he was hit and said, "It's okay.

　　" The moment I saw him for the first time, I experienced the brightest spring light in the seventeen years of thinness. It was the wind, the warm clouds, the soft grass and the green, reflected in his clear eyes like water and jade.

　　I soon found out his name, secretly speculating that he should have an elder who prefers Song Poetry, so he can name him from Liu Yong's long recitation. "Chonghu stacks Qingjia" - this phrase has filled my diary ever since. In the scenery of the lake and the mountains, there are countless shadows, and I have been thinking for countless moments that he really deserves this name.

　　2. After the

　　college entrance examination , I made two major decisions: first, I went to the barbershop to straighten my hair; second, I filled in the same volunteer as Zhao Qingjia.

　　After the university started, I successfully added Zhao Qingjia's contact information in the name of high school alumni in the icebreaking session for freshmen. He obviously forgot the past of being hit with precision by a language book, and politely asked me what kind of note name to give me.

　　"Shiyan." I reported my name and watched him drop the syllables of two Chinese characters on the screen of his mobile phone, which made him panic or excited for no reason. But he didn't notice it at all, and quickly turned to chat with the next classmate. In the summer of September, he was wearing a simple white T-shirt and camouflage pants required for military training, as refreshing as a sea salt lemon candy. Out of the corner of my eye, I measured the distance between our shoulders, close enough to feel his breath.

　　Zhao Qingjia seems to be born to be noticed. After the military training was over, the instructor said goodbye, and everyone sat around him. He stood in the center of the circle amid the roar. It's not a cumbersome guitar, nor a lively dance. He played "Green Flower in the Army" with a small harmonica, but inexplicably caused everyone to cry. The rays of the sun overflowed in my blurred vision, half of Zhao Qingjia's face was covered by the hazy twilight, but the outlines of the eyes, nose and lips were strangely clearer. I was stunned, and when I went back to the bedroom, I found deep and shallow pimples on my bare arms and ankles bitten by mosquitoes.

　　At the beginning of the semester, Zhao Qingjia said the most to me is "what a coincidence". We took the same physical education class, we took the same elective course, and in all the required courses, I was always sitting next to him and was logically assigned to the same group as him. I made up the reason for the "coincidence" as a magnetic field that attracted each other from the same middle school. He looked at me, his eyes were clear and bright, and he nodded with conviction: "So it is."

　　I wrote myself in a secret space. "It turns out that Zhao Qingjia is so stupid."

　　Yet even if he was kept in the dark and too stupid to see through my painstaking efforts, I still found him hopelessly lovable.

　　3.

　　I had the idea to confess to Zhao Qingjia at the beginning of my junior year.

　　Zhao Qingjia was originally outstanding, but he always refused to show his favor, either overt or covert. I stayed dormant in his circle of friends, looked for the right topic at the right opportunity, took the right action at the right time, and finally cultivated a proper relationship with him in two years. or missing friends.

　　Along with others, we watched the sun rise and the moon set, and heard the symphony of cheers at the concert. When I was on the roller coaster, I took up the seat next to him as always, and I tilted my head and said some nonsense when I ascended from the bottom, and I caught a glimpse of his eyes shining brighter than the summer sun. And when we fell from a height, the strong wind poured in, forcing me to close my eyes. Amidst the screams and the roar of the wheel rails, the back of my hand suddenly felt the dry warmth under my grip, and it slid away before my eyes opened.

　　Like being burned by the scorching sun, the place has been scalded into the night.

　　I thought for granted that maybe Zhao Qingjia was waiting for me to speak, and I shouldn't have kept him waiting too long.

　　I ordered a bunch of Maltese blue roses from the florist, ready to reveal the secret that I had planned for more than a thousand days and nights on his birthday. The background color of the rose is pure white, and only a circle of dark blue is dyed on the edge of the flower, like the ice and snow that does not melt and melt at the two poles of the earth, which precipitates cold and cold - this is the flower that best represents him. Building, artificial lake.

　　After I opened the door of the activity room, I realized that there was already another bouquet of roses in his arms, extremely warm red, densely packed into a swollen heart, as if it was about to burn. Zhao Qingjia had a smile on his face, which was a rare expression on his face, which made him look particularly dazzling.

　　He found me very quickly, so he walked over with a girl on his arm, and introduced with a smile: "Shiyan, this is my girlfriend."

　　How could I lose the battle? I also smiled and handed the suspicious bunch of blue roses to me . In front of him: "Congratulations, congratulations, happy birthday."

　　Perhaps unexpectedly, he hesitated before accepting it, but he also said it without fault: "Thank you for your flowers."

　　I said no thanks, and said again After joking a few words, "It's not interesting to leave the list without saying a word." After complimenting my girlfriend's beautiful appearance, I finally lost my skills, so I made a random excuse: "The project plan has not been written yet, and there is another problem from the tutor. I’m so sorry, I’m sorry.”

　　Later I learned that Malta blue roses are artificial flowers, just like the story of me and Zhao Qingjia, full of wishful thinking and reluctant whitewashing.

　　Four

　　After graduating from university, I moved to another city to continue my postgraduate studies. I heard that Zhao Qingjia got an offer from Dachang, and also heard that his relationship with his girlfriend was smooth sailing, and he has been celebrating the anniversary many times on social platforms.

　　I'm a shrewd person - after giving up my fantasy about Zhao Qingjia, I'm finally willing to admit it. Like pissed off, I no longer regularly go to the barbershop to straighten that messy hair, and I don't want to continue to be a foolish tool person, so I naturally drift away from him. For a long time, our chat history stayed in June of our senior year. He congratulated me on my dream school, and I congratulated him on a happy graduation. He was polite and distant, which is the decency of an adult.

　　One afternoon when I was busy writing my thesis, I received a message from him unexpectedly. He said that he went back to his hometown and chatted with his former high school classmates, only to know that the heroine of the incident that attacked the back of the head many years ago was called Shi Yan.

　　He also said that he was bewildered by the beating at the time. He only vaguely remembered that the girl was ruthless and had a curling firework hanging in the back of her head. He thought that his personality should be very flamboyant. .

　　I was stunned for a moment, then suddenly laughed, thinking of the countless days when I hurried for him without saying a word. For example, when the torrential rain falls over the playground, he would rather splash mud on his legs than hurriedly send him an umbrella to cover the rain. My thoughts at that time were kept secret. I walked half a step behind him holding an umbrella, watching the rain fall from the edge of the petite sunscreen umbrella, moistening his broad shoulders bit by bit.

　　I avoided the subject, exchanged a few casual greetings with him, put an end to the connection at my own discretion, and continued to dig into the documentation. When the night is getting dark, the warm orange light shines outside the window, haloing with the drizzle of the yellow plum season, blurring into large and small light spots, setting off the distance between heaven and earth.

　　I suddenly remembered a song from the Song Dynasty, which was written by He Zhu: "How much is the idle sorrow? Tobacco in Sichuan, the wind in the city is full, and the plum blossoms are raining.

　　" It has become a thing of the past, and it is nothing but ordinary.