Pastel Colours

Day1615:42

The night before returning to China, He Zhiyuan felt the anxious feeling of returning home.

He has insomnia.

He lay half asleep in bed until five o'clock. As soon as it was dark, he left the residence, locked the door, removed the key and threw it into the mailbox, leaving it to the helper who came to clean it regularly, and called an Uber to the airport.

He is light-packed and has very little luggage with him-both domestic and foreign are considered fixed residences, and his clothes for the four seasons are prepared separately, except for the set that he wears when he goes out, not even a shirt. On the contrary, it was a gift to Bubu and Songran, carefully selected and stuffed in a full box.

Before taking off, he called Songran. Songran was quite nervous on the other end and kept telling him to pay attention to safety.

He believed that he did not have the ability to dismantle the plane with his bare hands, and the probability of encountering terrorists did not seem to be high, so he smiled and said, "Don't worry, I fly hundreds of thousands of kilometers a year, and I haven't hit a plane crash yet."

Songran's face turned pale in shock: "Don't be okay to set up a flag!"

He Zhiyuan: "..."

"Uh..." Songran wiped her nose awkwardly, and whispered, "I, I pointed out the flag, it is equivalent to drawing the flag, you...you should pay attention to your words and don't stand up anymore."

He Zhiyuan laughed lowly, his chest trembling slightly: "Has anyone praised you for being cute?"

Songran's face was hot, and he said shamelessly: "Yes, so many!"

This is Bubu's usual tone recently, and he took Songran away without knowing it. He Zhiyuan became more and more lovely as he listened. He gave him a kiss on the other end of the phone, and he repeatedly promised that he would return home safely before saying goodbye to him gently.

This night, Songran tossed and turned and couldn't sleep.

He was lying on the bed, looking at the ceiling with his eyes open, imagining that it was a vast and dark night over the Pacific Ocean. He stretched out two more fingers, one representing himself and the other representing Mr. He, slowly approaching each other.

Ten thousand kilometers, what a long distance. From birth to now, he has never been so far away.

Songran asked her fingertips silently: small plane, don't shake, don't shake, you have to fly steadily little by little, flying across the ocean reflecting the stars, and let the person I miss in my heart be safe Brought to my side.

The left and right fingertips gradually approached, and when they met each other, they banged intimately.

After sending Bubu to the kindergarten in the morning, Songran found a barber shop.

He hasn't cut his hair for a month, and his hair is soft, and his bangs cover it again, making him look unsatisfied. The haircut brother graciously held the ipad to recommend the look. The homepage was colorful, and the coolness of killing Matt for a while, throwing a bomb into the dye vat may not necessarily achieve this effect. Songran subconsciously refused. Half of the story, the little brother slid to the second page and produced a particularly dazzling short hair: simple, clean, beautiful and refreshing.

Song Ran immediately changed his mind.

If you don’t bleed today, the money will be in vain.

An hour later, he walked out of the barber shop refreshingly, with his forehead, ears and neck exposed. When the wind blew, his skin was chilly, and his short hair was briskly swaying in the wind, showing a vigorous vigor.

After returning home, take a selfie with the mirror and send it to Lin Hui on WeChat.

The little girl replied three lines of exclamation marks in seconds, waving her phone to stimulate Zhan Yuwen to go.

Songran went out very early in the afternoon.

Half an hour before the kindergarten was over, he neatly locked his bicycle on the fence at the entrance, leaning against the tree and waiting for the rabbit-earlier Mr. He sent a text message saying that he had landed safely. He was itchy, thinking where to wait or not, so he just came over to guard in advance.

An old lady walked slowly carrying a basket of water chestnuts, dried bean curds and Malantou. Seeing him sticking in her pocket and leaning against the tree, she happily said hello in dialect: "You young man will come to meet Xiao Ning?"

"Yes, pick up my son." Songran was full of spring breeze, "Are you also here to pick up your grandson?"

"My family was born with a nanny and a beautiful relationship." Seeing that he speaks Mandarin, the old lady also changed to Mandarin with a Shanghai accent. She brought up the vegetable basket, showed Songran the fruits and vegetables in it, and said, "Hey, they are all the vegetables she likes to eat. I bought them and made them. My daughter has always picked it up since she was young, and she was spoiled and spoiled. Dried bean curd mixed with malanto. It must be fresh, and it must be iced for a while. She would not eat it when mixed with leeks.

Although the old lady complained, her eye sockets were deeply wrinkled with a smile. She looked at Songran and saw that he looked like a student, and asked: "Does the young man look young? How old is the child?"

Songran said: "Four years old, just started middle work."

The old lady nodded: "That's one year younger than my nanny, but the boy grows fast, and he jumps up all at once, and he can't stop him. You are so tall, and the child will definitely not be bad... Yes. Now, what about the child's mother, why are you here to pick it up?"

"Well, my family is usually in my lord, and the child's "mother"... "she" is relatively busy."

Flying around the world on business trips all day long, and I haven't come home yet.

Songran seized the opportunity and transferred his personality to Mr. He, secretly happy.

As soon as the old lady heard him, her eyes immediately became cordial: "You are a good young queen, you have a good relationship, caring, unassuming, willing to accommodate your wife. My daughter never met you such a good man, daughter-in-law. Both of them were busy, so the nun and nun had to throw it to me. The old man didn’t care, he played cards and walked the birds in Fuxing Park every day, and told him that he would be back at four o’clock. The wind was just like the wind, and people didn’t know where it was..."

Speaking of rise, the old lady began to chat with Songran's parents. Songran thought it was very interesting, while enthusiastically chatting with her, listening to her from her son-in-law to the old man, while paying attention to the vehicles on the road-scheduled to meet at four o'clock, there are less than twenty minutes left, every car passing by There may be his Mr. He sitting there.

The heart was beating fast and pounding.

The roots of the ears slowly heat up, then the neck, then the face.

Songran kept reviewing and preparing the opening remarks of the whole night, rehearsing the best smiling angle and the most decent handshake posture in his mind... When he first moved to Bishuiwan, he had to face this every time he swiped his card into the hall. The glass was nervous for a while, just for the slightest chance of meeting Mr. He.

In an instant, two months passed.

The phone in his pocket vibrated unexpectedly, and Songran's sane was sober to the extreme. He quickly took out his mobile phone and saw the white words on the black background marked "He Zhiyuan", and said to the old lady hurriedly: "I'll answer the call."

Old lady: "Hey, you take it, you take it."

He took two steps aside.

Songran was holding the phone, his fingers couldn't stop trembling, and he slid the interface three times before sliding open: "He, Mr. He?"

"Song Ran, it's me."

After more than ten hours, a low, smiling voice finally rang in his ears again, probably because the distance was close, and his ears were warmed: "Are you in kindergarten?"

"It's here." Songran stood on tiptoe, turned his head and looked around, "I'm at the gate of Gaolan Road. How about you, are you coming soon?"

"There are not many parking spaces over there and it is a bit crowded. How about we meet in another place?" He Zhiyuan suggested, "You go west, turn left at the first intersection, and you see a tea house with curtains stopping."

"it is good!"

Songran happily said goodbye to the old lady, raised her right hand and waved, then turned around and ran for a while, her footsteps as briskly as if she was stepping on clouds and wind, stepping up the fallen leaves.

The place He Zhiyuan agreed with him was a long street with a row of platanus trees planted on the left and right trails. On both sides are old-style houses with gray walls and mottled rust between the fences.

In the spring of April, the new parasol tree leaves are piled up in clusters, and the tall branches are staggered into a net above the head. The sunlight is like broken glass sprinkled in the thick shade, shining, paved all the way along the street, adding some light to the quiet long street.

On the next street not far away, there is a simple small tea house.

A half-walled creeper, a curtain of wisteria flowers, a blue-gray curtain hung under the walnut signboard, and an elegant "tea" written on it.

"I saw the tea house, are you inside? The first or second floor?"

Songran ran in a hurry, and stopped panting when he found the target, and tried to probe his neck—the tea house was dimly lit, and the interior scene could not be seen through the window glass.

"Sorry, I'm still on the road. I won't be there in a while." He Zhiyuan said unhurriedly, "There is a bus stop near the tea house, can you see it?"

bus stop?

Song Ran's eyes turned, and she found an inconspicuous small station.

It is really inconspicuous: the wooden shed, the glass wall, the one-meter-wide low stool can only sit two people side by side. A green and white vehicle information board was inserted on the notice board, and the rest were empty, indicating that only one car passed here. It is small in itself, and then blocked by the lush creeper and wisteria, it almost disappears for the most part.

Songran didn't understand, so he asked in confusion: "There is a small station, what's wrong?"

For three or four seconds, He Zhiyuan was silent, he was judging with extreme caution. The decision to be made is very important to him, and he is still weighing the pros and cons repeatedly until the moment he speaks. In the end, he didn't feel relieved, and said in a deep voice, "Songran, stand still, look at the station, and count up from the beginning."

Song Ran froze suddenly.

The joyous mood disappeared for an instant. He stared at the small station blankly, his fingers clenched, his face pale, and he felt that a bucket of ice water was poured down his head, and he penetrated the bone marrow from the sky spirit cover, and his body was cold. .

"No, no, don't do this..." He slowly shook his head, whistling his lips, "Mr. He, I can't, I can't..."

Word by word, he flimsyly pinched out of his throat, shaking like he was about to break.

He Zhiyuan resisted the intense distress and asked him, "Are you not going to see me?"

Songran shook his head again and took a step back: "I want to see you, I really want to see you, but..."

But can you stop forcing me? Don't press my head, use my feelings for you as a hostage, and force me to face those unpleasant things.

Mr. He, look at this small station, it's remote and deserted, it has long been forgotten.

There will be no cars coming.

There will never be a car.