Pastel Colours

Day0121:00

At six o'clock in the morning, the twilight line moved slowly across the vast Pacific water. It will take another half an hour for the sun to shine on the land on the west coast of North America.

The small town of PaloAlto is quiet and gray, with red and green lights alternately lonely at the street, and few vehicles pass by.

The window of a single-family house in the Eastern District was lit up, and through the gauze curtains, a man in a dark gray flannel nightgown could be seen leaning against the window sill.

His hair is a bit messy, his chin is not shaved, his head is lowered, and the corners of his lips are slightly curled up.

Across the 10,000 kilometers of sea, the squabbling voice of the neighbor he had never met came out from the phone receiver: "...I, I walked over and saw a note on your door with a note on it. Now, Huang Guihua is back home..."

"Ok."

The espresso machine on the flow counter made a slight noise, condensing the dark brown extract, drop by drop into the ceramic cup.

A cool logo is printed on the wall of the cup.

SwordArc.

Italics, azure blue, with two sharp sword arcs at the beginning S and ending C.

"...It happened that I cooked shrimp for dinner, shrimp porridge, meat and vegetables, so I ate a bowl of Bobu, he thought it was... it was quite delicious..."

He Zhiyuan smiled and said, "Thank you."

"No thanks, no thanks! Neighbors, yes, yes." The young man on the other end of the phone became more nervous, and his volume jumped up a step. "Boob is very good, and I don’t need people to feed me. I just added a bowl. It's just chopsticks, no trouble at all!"

He Zhiyuan said, "Thank you anyway."

The coffee in the cup is almost full, and the extract at the bottom of the filter plate condenses more and more slowly, and it takes a long time for a new drop to fall.

Another drop.

The smile on the corners of He Zhiyuan's lips became stronger after the smell of coffee. He pinched the handle of the cup, shook it left and right, picked up a cube of sugar and threw it in.

It can be sweeter today.

The opposite was still struggling: "... Then, I told a story, and... I ate some strawberries, but I didn't eat a lot. After all, it was almost nine o'clock..."

"Ok?"

He Zhiyuan let out a question, picked up the spoon and stirred it counterclockwise slowly: "What happened to nine?"

"Ah? Nine o'clock, nine o'clock is not..." The voice on the other side suddenly became quieter, and there was a pause for a while, as if seriously considering something. After a while, the young man was guilty and tempted again, "...isn't it time to sleep?"

Rarely, He Zhiyuan didn't hold it back, and laughed directly, but soon stopped, cleared his throat, and said sternly: "Yes, it's time to go to bed, you are very considerate."

"Oh."

The other side responded blankly, and quieted abruptly.

He thought, this is really a lovely neighbor. He obviously helped him a lot, but he was so nervous that he was incoherent, as if he was caught abducting a child, as if he was afraid that he would go back to S city along the electromagnetic signal, opening his blood pot and stammer. Up him.

Ding.

There is a notification tone for the arrival of new mail from the living room.

He Zhiyuan went out for coffee, put the cup on the coffee table, and opened the laptop. The subject of the email is very concise. It is the registration confirmation letter for a data security conference in Los Angeles next Tuesday.

He scanned the bottom line at a glance, then clicked the red cross.

The youth over there waited for a long time, and then whispered softly, "Mr. He?"

He Zhiyuan closed his notebook, leaned back, closed his eyes and leaned into the sofa: "Sorry, I am responsible for today's affairs. I was too negligent in looking for a nanny, and the control was not strict enough to make this situation happen. If not You save the field, maybe my child is really hungry tonight. So, when the housekeeping company goes to work tomorrow, I will contact them as soon as possible and let them send a new aunt as soon as possible."

"Uh……"

There was a strange silence on the other end of the phone.

He Zhiyuan asked: "What's wrong?"

"It's nothing, I'm just thinking, are there any trusted acquaintances around you who can bring Bobo?" The youth's tone showed full concern, "I mean, Bobo is only four years old. Children at this age are usually very sensitive. Auntie is someone close to him. If he changes too frequently, he will easily feel insecure..."

He Zhiyuan thought he was going to say something big, and when he heard this, he smiled lightly: "It's okay, Bobu has adapted."

"is it."

The young man was still hesitating, and the ending tone slowly became lighter, and slowly disappeared, as if he was hesitant to speak.

I want to persuade, but there is no position to persuade-He Zhiyuan of course can hear it.

It's really hard for him.

To tell the truth, a stranger who has no interest in entanglements is willing to take care of his children unselfishly. He Zhiyuan was moved and moved, but he also felt a little funny: Don't be like this, enthusiastic neighbor, I have raised Bubu for four years. Isn't it as good that you understand his character?

Bobo is different from other children.

totally different.

He is independent and sensible, can eat by himself, read books by himself, build blocks by himself, not noisy or noisy, just like he has created a unique place of peace in his heart. He is a perfect child who can hardly find faults. He likes every aunt, and he also attracts every aunt.

Because of this, when other single parents are so busy to take care of family and career, only He Zhiyuan can safely keep their children in S City without slowing down his pursuit of career.

Songran held the phone, and there was only a quiet white noise in the receiver—Mr. He did not speak any more, and the conversation came to an awkward end.

Perhaps it was an illusion, Songran felt the impatience of if there was something like nothing in the last sentence of the other party. He couldn't help but feel annoyed. He complained about his nosy in his heart, returned the bright yellow cartoon mobile phone to Bobo, picked up the steel ball, and continued to wash the bowl.

"Paba, it's back to **** again!"

Bubu rubbed the phone with her pink face, and took up cheerful little steps again.

Songran turned the blossom sprinkler faucet to let the very fine water jet wash the plate. The dishes clinked, the white foam dissipated, and he stared at the vortex pouring into the sewer in a daze.

He just...offended Mr. He, right?

What a rude.

He is an outsider who has only known Bubu for less than two hours, and he does not know the children or the parents. How can he understatement and say something similar to accusation? Comparing heart to heart, no parent is willing to be separated from their children. Mr. He is so busy at work. If there is a better choice, he will not only hire a live-in nanny to look after the children, and Bubu will not appear outside the door of 8012A.

He is a single otaku who has no children and no career. Why doesn't he know how to put himself in his position and think about it?

Songran turned off the faucet and patted his face depressedly.

When he wiped his hands and walked out of the kitchen, Bobo had stopped his happy little steps and stood at the dining table, his delicate eyebrows drooped, returning to his former restrained and obedient appearance.

"Sleep is a person's business, Bubu understands." The child said to the other end of the phone, "Paba, don't worry, Bubu is very courageous, not afraid of the dark, you can sleep by yourself!"

Sleep by yourself?

Song Ran was shocked immediately.

What do you mean? There is no adult in the family, how can you sleep by yourself?

Bobo hung up the phone, stood with his head down sadly, pursing his lips, and sniffing quietly. Songran was so distressed that she squatted in front of him, took his small hand that squeezed the corner of his clothes, and put it into his palm.

He just wanted to comfort him, but Bubu raised his head, and a bright smile appeared on his face: "Brother, your porridge is delicious, and the stories you tell are also good. Thank you. Bubu is already big. My child, I can’t trouble you any more, and I’m going home to sleep.”

"Boob?"

Songran couldn't believe his ears.

Is this kid serious?

When he offered to stay overnight, Bubu’s expression changes from surprise to suspicion to ecstasy still vividly appeared in front of him. Songran was 100% convinced that that was the child’s true desire, so... What's wrong with the lie?

Songran thought for a while and grasped the key precisely: "Dad asked you to go home to sleep?"

"Ok."

Bubu nodded.

Songran silently scolded a dirty word on the spot, and was about to roll his eyes to the sky. The thoughts of guilt and offense just now evaporated in an instant-the night is so dark, the house is so empty, dare to let a four-year-old child Sleeping at home alone, the idea of ​​being a father is very strange, and the brain gap is very flat!

Bubu sleeps alone. Who will comfort him if he has a nightmare in the middle of the night, who will cover it if he gets cold after kicking the quilt, and who will protect him if he gets into the house?

Songran thought about it casually, it was almost like a barrage exploding, and more than a hundred dangerous items were swept past.

He really wanted to print it all out, and slapped his father He on the face with a volley.

Are you sick? !

Your child has been displaced. I am a passer-by who does not seek fame or profit. In line with the shining humanitarian principle, I help you coax and feed you. I also voluntarily dedicate myself to be a night nursery. If you don’t appreciate it, it’s fine. You have to be madly remote. Remote control, jumped out across the Pacific and kicked horizontally-can you die if you concentrate on your job?

The children given in the lucky draw can't be raised randomly!

It's...I really missed a sultry voice.

Songran remembered that He Zhiyuan had a lazy laugh, and his cheeks were red again-half ashamed and half angry.

Ugh.

For this dad's job, a zero score is considered to be a face.

He squatted there and looked at Bobo, feeling nothing in his heart. Bobo, Bobo, I know you are a good boy, obedient like a little sheep, but you are only four years old, even if your father wants you to go home to sleep, you should make a noise.

Children who can make trouble have candy to eat. If you don’t make trouble, how can your brother help you?

Bobo stuffed his phone into his small schoolbag, awkwardly carried it on his shoulder, went to the door to change into canvas shoes, took a minute to tighten the laces that will soon be untied again, then stood up and chanted. Ran waved his hand: "Brother, good night."

He tiptoed and unscrewed the heavy doorknob.

Click.

A row of ceiling lights in the corridor lit up, illuminating the scene outside the door: bluebells, sunflowers, closed elevators, beige marble floor tiles... Opposite is a cold security door embedded in a white wall, and the sole of the foot is a piece Soft chipmunk carpet.

Boob has heard the story of the chipmunk, and can't help feeling a little more intimate with his old friends.

He waved to it and said, "Goodbye."

After saying hello, Bubu leaped out flexibly without stepping on a piece of hair on the chipmunk, then trot across the corridor, standing on the dark, square, bristled carpet, and took it out of his schoolbag. The key opened the door lock of 8012B.

Not afraid, not afraid, the bold Bobu is going home.

But as soon as he opened the door, a large cloud of thick black mist burst out of the room, enveloping the young child.

It's dark and cold.

There is no light in the house, my father is not at home, my mother-in-law is not at home, there are countless human-eating monsters hiding in the pervasive night, they are hung behind the door, under the bed, in the cabinet, each with green eyes. And sharp pointed teeth.

Bobo shrank for a while, confused, and did not dare to go in.

He just wanted to escape.

There are bright lights in the room behind him, big fluffy dumplings, colorful storybooks, and an older brother who smiles very softly and can tell stories. As long as he escapes back, he doesn't have to face everything in front of him.

Boob regrets it very much.

But he had promised his father that he would sleep at home alone. If he didn't believe it, he would no longer be that good-loving kid.

He must be a good boy who is likable.

Bubu mustered his courage and took a small step forward. The dark fog immediately wrapped him tighter. His bluffing courage was like a thin-skinned fish bubble. With the tip of a needle, it collapsed. Mostly.

His movements are stiff, and his figure is stiff. He couldn't understand why it would be so sad in his heart to be a good boy who is likable? Where are the rewards for good children, the sweets and garlands under the sun?

Bubu did not dare to go forward, nor did he dared to move back.

He stuck at the door of his home, staring at the terrible darkness in front of him, feeling more and more aggrieved in his heart-why is the night so long? If it's dawn in the blink of an eye, he can skip this paragraph and go to kindergarten happily.

He blinked naively, turned his head, and looked expectantly at the flower table glass window.

But the sky was still black, darker than ink, and the glass reflected two withered lilies, and the reflected light stung his immature eyes.

He blinked again seriously, very slowly and vigorously.

There is still no change outside the window, and the night seems to have stagnated at this moment.

"brother."

Bubu was at a loss, his throat lightly choked and said, "What should I do?"

Perhaps the aisle on the twelfth floor was too quiet, and Song Ran unexpectedly caught the subtle sound of a needle landing. He felt a pain in his heart, without thinking about anything, rushed over and hugged Bobu.

"Bubu, stay here, stay with my brother." He said, "My brother promised to tell you a bedtime story. You have gone home. Who will tell your brother's story?"

"But... but I promised my father to sleep alone..."

Bobo sniffed, his voice moist.

Songran used his killer: "Brother and Dad, who did Bubu promise first?"

Bubu sniffed again: "...Brother."

"Yes, it's brother." Songran said, "Since I promised my brother first, I won't count what I promised later."

"Really?" Bubu turned his head quickly, tears in his eyes, "Don't count?"

Songran nodded affirmatively: "I won't count."

Bubu bit his lip, tilted his head, and looked at him suspiciously.

Songran laughed and squeezed the tip of his nose: "Don't worry, if my dad asks, I will tell him that we **** is obedient, and we have been clamoring to go home and go to bed obediently. It is not good for my brother. My brother insisted on telling a story to Bubu and tied Bubu back halfway. If Dad wants to punish him, he should punish his brother."

Bubu burst into laughter, rushed to hug Songran's neck, and kissed him for a while: "Brother, why are you... how are you so good!"