Insomnia

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Wen Qingying followed him after he walked to the door and stopped.

Entering the store, Wen Qingying pulled away the chair by the table and motioned for Tao Ling to sit.

After settling down, he took the cup and went to the back to wash and wash, turned around and poured a cup of warm water for Tao Ling, and then started to clean up the shop and prepare to close.

The fresh cut flowers outside were brought in first and placed in buckets one by one, followed by potted plants.

I didn't realize it just now, but now I feel a little dizzy when I sit down. Tao Ling drank half a glass of water and sat quietly at the table watching Wen Qingying busy, and didn't want to get up to help.

After a few minutes, like a conjuration, the entire space in the store was suddenly filled with bright purples and reds, leaving only a narrow path in the middle, as if the immortal's long sword swiped in the air, directly swept the waves into the road from the sea of ​​flowers.

Wen Qingying is tall, although not strong, but the whole person looks very powerful, especially when doing things. That sense of power does not come from being able to lift heavy things, but another form of youthful vigor.

It is similar to the sunshine posture of sweating on the basketball court, but it is more calm.

Nearly twenty minutes later, Wen Qingying closed the glass door, and after washing her hands, sat opposite Tao Ling.

Seeing that Tao Ling had no intention of communicating with himself, he took out a stack of small cards from the gap under the table and began to draw simple strokes on it.

After watching for a while, Tao Ling suddenly raised his hand and grabbed the corner of the paper he was using to cushion his hand.

The paper under his hand was pulled away, and the paper slipped over, leaving a sudden coolness on the side of the little finger. Wen Qingying observed Tao Ling's expression and drew a pen from the side for him.

Tao Ling wrote on the white paper: "Are these cards for guests?"

Pushing the paper over, Wen Qingying Tixing wrote: "Yes sir, the bouquet needs a card and can be used. If the guest doesn't like it, replace it with a blank one."

Tao Ling's handwriting is thin and elegant, but he is habitually scribble, while Wen Qingying's is more generous and more regular. When the two lines were placed together, Tao Ling suddenly felt quite artistic.

Like weeds and wild daisies growing together.

Wen Qingying is a flower, he is a dog's tail.

It's a broken analogy. Tao Ling rubbed his eyebrows.

He thought that maybe because he didn't speak, Wen Qingying would use some written language when communicating with people, but it wasn't offensive at all.

This habit perfectly matched his quietness, as if he were someone who was always living in letters.

"Why do you want a flower shop?" Tao Ling wrote.

Wen Qingying tilted her head, looked at a blue hydrangea by the table, and wrote at the end, "My mother told me that she used to be a flower shop, and she really wants to open another flower shop."

Tao Ling thought of the cemetery, and pretended to look at his face casually. He didn't notice the abnormal expression. He thought about it and asked, "Are you tired?"

Wen Qingying answered frankly: "I'm tired, I have to get up very early every day, and it's very troublesome to buy goods, and I'm clumsy, so I'm not very good at wrapping flowers and arranging flowers. But I'm very happy. Sir, are you a teacher at the provincial university? "

"Yes, but I'm currently in an administrative position, and I only attend classes occasionally."

"Can I go and listen when Mr. is in class?"

"Yes, but..."

"A lot of things don't have to be heard with ears, I can feel the classroom."

This is indeed true, but Tao Ling is still a little helpless. The classroom is where the ears and voice are most needed, and many things that come out of impromptu collisions are more valuable. However, he didn't want to brush Wen Qingying's intentions, and wrote back: "Okay."

"What did Mr. teach? I can make up my homework first."

"Graduated from religion, Chinese Taoism."

After receiving the answer, Wen Qingying blinked, his eyes were clear, his expression sighed slightly, and he continued to write: "Can studying religion help us face the disappearance of life?"

The characters are not small, and there is no deliberate arrangement of space. At this point of the conversation, an A4 paper is almost full.

Tao Ling spread out his left hand and pressed the edge of the paper, and read the last sentence back and forth several times.

The fingers holding the pen gradually tightened, and the knuckles stretched out bluish-white. He did not continue to write, but still looked at the paper and said, "No, it can't be for me."

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