Pastel Colours

Day0301:55

After sleeping with Bobu this night, Songran was alone in the bathroom for half an hour, ripped out a large roll of toilet paper, and the floor was soaked with rotten paper.

He couldn't figure it out, so he was talking on the phone and talking about fresh meat wontons and brown sugar **** soup. How could he get the wrong nerve and attack Mr. He with such rude words. Mr. He is a real gentleman, well-educated, even if he is seriously offended, he always grasps the scale of his words, but what about him?

He couldn't hide his rude background.

No family education, no self-cultivation, no matter how courteous he usually pretends in front of others.

In fact, a similar situation happened once more than ten years ago, which is more exaggerated and the consequences are more serious. If it weren't for the inexplicable loss of control, perhaps today, Songran is living a completely different life.

Songran was only nine years old that year and lived in a children's welfare home called "Hope House" in T City. Most of the children in the orphanage have physical defects, either disabled or sick. Songran is one of the few in good health. He looks cute and sensible by nature, like a red apple placed in a shop window, smooth and shiny, comparable to decorations made of plastic molds.

When Songran first entered the orphanage, the teachers told him that you must be able to leave soon, because parents will line up to take home a good child like you.

So Songran waited for that home with all his heart, waiting for the pair of parents who loved him.

But maybe the fate hasn't arrived yet. Songran has lived in the orphanage for many years and missed the chance to be adopted again and again, yet he still didn't wait for his parents to belong to him. Hopeful, he didn't know that the teachers in the orphanage offered the same encouragement to every child.

Finally, in a sunny golden autumn, Song Ranpan came to a turning point.

At that time, he was sitting on his small bed and folding stars. The teacher of the orphanage opened the door and called him, saying that his uncle and aunt had come to make an appointment a few days ago. This exhibition is very special, only his apple is on display.

The teacher said: "There are no other kids arguing with you, so you have to take the opportunity, you know?"

Song Ran nodded.

According to the plan, he went out with a bottle of colorful paper stars as a meeting gift to future adoptive parents. Who would not like a gift folded by the child and filled with innocence?

However, the couple that Songran met was extremely picky and was not easily moved by the children's paper stars.

They want to see the real thing.

The delicate makeup aunt took out a piece of paper from her bag, folded it in threes, and looked like a long and tedious list. In the process of communicating with Songran, every once in a while, she picked up a pen to tick a few tick on the paper. Songran is not clear about the specific content of this list, but he guessed that the more ticked, the higher the probability of being adopted, because every time a ticked, the aunt’s eyes will reveal a soft touch. Nodded with satisfaction.

Despite the stringent standards, Songran's performance is still impeccable.

In fact, every child in the orphanage has received some discipline and knows how to please parents. The couples who come to adopt are not totally ignorant, but they all have weaknesses. They don’t care too much about potential hypocrisy when they see a positive appearance.

And Songran has a unique strength-he can eliminate all the blunt performance traces.

The other children laughed with their lips and teeth, but Songran laughed with a pair of eyes, always squinting, warm, like the morning sun, orange fruit candy, let people taste a hint of sweetness.

The other children smiled, often showing a look of worry, that is, the anxiety caused by fear of their poor performance, but Songran will not. He buried the negative emotions deep in his heart, which was equivalent to self-hypnosis. The clear smile came from the bottom of his heart, making it impossible to find the gloom underneath.

In this game, orphans have learned hypocrisy, and parents have learned to guard against orphans' hypocrisy. Only Songran can make the most critical parents fail to make a mistake, thinking that what they see is true.

The meeting that day lasted three full hours. At five o'clock in the evening, the sun was setting, and the picky aunt finally made a check mark on her list.

She sat next to Songran, touched his head gently for the first time, and said to the teacher in the orphanage: "In this society, it's really getting more and more incomprehensible. Songran is so good. Child, smart, obedient, responds decently, and has a sweet mouth. Don’t be too savvy when you take it out. If you let me live and raise it by myself, I may not be able to teach a better one, so why would anyone be willing not to? Teacher , I have spotted him, one hundred likes, I will definitely take it back and raise it."

In addition to agreeing to adopt, the couple also promised to donate a large sum of money to the orphanage to show their heartfelt gratitude. So the teacher from the orphanage rushed to accompany them to go through the procedures and left Songran alone in the room.

Songran looked at their distant backs, knowing that he was about to have a home, and that someone would love him soon, and the pain and grievances that had been suppressed for several years poured out in his heart.

He took out a box of idle colored lead from the drawer and began to paint on the paper. But he did not expect that it was this last painting that caused an irreparable mistake.

He wanted to paint a full sunflower, but his pen became an eight-legged spider hanging on the roof and netting. He wanted to paint a small green grass mound, but he wanted to paint a group of happy iron fences. The child who was playing, the pen was a rag doll with a broken leg held by the disabled girl all day long...

A greedy thought flourished in Song Ran's heart.

He wanted to take a risk and uncover his false mask, only to remove a corner, revealing a little insignificant flaws-the aunt said that he liked him, willing to touch his hair, talk to him softly, she must be Be willing to accept a small cloud of haze under the sun.

At that time, Songran regarded superficial likes as real, as well as courtesy closeness.

As he drew, he flipped over the drawing paper and glanced at the back inadvertently. The moment his eyes touched the paper, his body stiffened.

This is a piece of paper torn from an old notebook, printed with a monthly calendar.

A total of 31 days.

Songran looked at the five consecutive rows of numbers, and his fingers trembled slightly. He held the color lead tightly, moved the pen tip behind the last 31, pressed against it, and hurriedly wrote a 32.

Then there were 33, 34, 35, 36, 37... the nib leaped quickly and couldn't stop.

The little child was fascinated and crazy, desperately writing continuous numbers on the paper, row after row, column after column...107, 108, 109... 1210, 1211, 1212... the dense numbers are just Like thousands of ants pouring out of their nests, they quickly crawled all over the paper, filling every corner. It wasn't until there was no more gap in the paper that Songran woke up from the devilishness.

He raised his head and saw the aunt standing at the door, pulling the doorknob, staring at him in horror.

She rushed forward, snatched the drawing paper from Song Ran's hand, slapped her back into the arms of the orphanage teacher, and cursed loudly: "You explain to me, what is this?! He is a child Do this kind of weird thing all day long?!"

As soon as the teacher of the orphanage saw the dangling numbers on the paper, he immediately knew that it was not good, and explained with a smile: "Ms. Song, there is nothing wrong with it, my child, everything else is fine, just a little psychological trauma when I was a child..."

"What kind of psychological trauma is obviously sick!"

Aunt Song pointed at Song Ran, her sharp voice pierced into his heart like a dagger: "How can I bring it back and raise it? If he gets up in the middle of the night to write numbers, I will be scared of my life! Look! Take a look at his paintings just now. Can this be a child? He doesn't have schizophrenia? Rotten apples can be sold as apples, and you can do it at a loss!"

Hearing these words, Songran jumped up and slammed the pencil in her hand at her.

"I'm just sick, schizophrenic, just a rotten apple, what's wrong? I'm not rare to let you raise it!" He clenched his small fist and yelled at Aunt Song angrily, "If I had a watch, too, Every item of you is a big cross! You are not worthy of being my mother at all, get me away!"

It was because he lost control this time that he lost the chance of being adopted forever.

He was a bright red apple that accidentally exposed the rotten flesh inside, so he was forced to take it off the shelf, left the bright display window for the exhibition, and threw it into the corner of the warehouse, without a chance to show it.

Later, he heard from elsewhere that the couple who came to choose him that day had a wealth of wealth. Due to his gaffe, the orphanage missed a large amount of donations, which naturally fell to him. Later, he heard that he had become a typical negative teaching material. Every child had to get a shot before participating in the "exhibition". The teachers said: You can learn from anyone, don’t learn from Songran, he I left it for a good day, but I was alive and dead for the rest of my life.

Yeah, alive and dead.

For the next few years, Songran spent a flat time in the orphanage. At the age of fourteen, he exceeded the upper age limit for adoption. At the age of sixteen, he carried his painting equipment and left the orphanage alone.

It doesn't seem to make sense to stay any longer.

Might as well go out for a break.

If there really is a home that belongs to him in this world, it must be hidden away from the orphanage, because what the orphanage can give him would be broken as soon as the mask was uncovered.

Songran was full of hope at the time, thinking that he was just embarking on a journey that was slightly more difficult than others. At the end of the journey, there would be a door with a big red blessing open to welcome him. But today, when he was pulling a large section of toilet paper in the bathroom, he suddenly realized that he would never reach the end.

Because he is missing a vital skill.

He doesn't deal with intimacy at all.

Songran’s damage to intimacy is almost devastating: as long as others take the initiative to show signs of intimacy, he will have a kind of tempting desire to dig out the darkest part of his heart, and expose him undisguisedly , Or unscrupulously vent his emotions, in order to let the other party ruin even this pitiful goodwill that has just sprouted, and then hesitate to avoid him.

That was the case with Aunt Song back then, and so is Mr. He now.

Songran has learned how to be a qualified friend, colleague and neighbor, but he cannot learn how to be a qualified family member.

How long has he known Mr. He?

It took only 24 hours to make three calls.

Such a mature and gentle Mr. He is willing to trust the unknown human heart through a layer of belly, entrust the child to the care of strangers, willingly pay him a salary of 14 thousand, teasing him from time to time, teasing him with a **** voice People... Such a good Mr. He, only a day, gave him a living.

Tomorrow, Mr. He will find a new babysitter to replace him, and Boob will stay at his home for dinner, and will not come over to listen to him telling stories, nor will he bother calling his brother.

After only two days, nothing was left.

He is still alone, he is alone everywhere.

Songran once vowed to live an active life, talk to people with a bright smile, treat people without humbleness, paint warm colors, write fairy tales of healing, and make every day full of warm colors-but it is useless, useless.

Once stimulated, he will still show his true shape, showing the ugliest appearance.

The monster in his heart never died. It hung in the depths of the cave, and occasionally when a stranger approached, it issued a terrible huge roar to scare away anyone who tried to get close to him.

Songran didn't want to give up lightly. After crying that night, he turned out his pen and paper, and sat in front of the French window in the living room most of the night and wrote a letter of apology to Mr. He, saying that he still wanted to take care of Bobu, and he would definitely control his emotions in the future.

The blue moon shines on the paper, with a lonely cool tone.

He wrote page after page, intending to read it to him when he talked to Mr. He on the phone tomorrow night. After he finished writing, he felt that it was definitely too late. He scolded so badly, like a most unreasonable shrew, Mr. He probably didn't even want to hear his voice.

Songran felt uncomfortable, so he crumpled the letter paper into a ball and threw it to the far corner.

In the dark, a big hairy ball leaped up, jumped off the sofa, picked up the waste paper, and returned it to Song Ran.

"Meow."

Bu Doudou yelled sweetly and raised his head for praise.

Songran touched its soft long hair, pinched the thin and transparent ear tips, and said in a low voice, "Budoudou, why are you not mine? I will take a few more drafts and buy them for you. Imported canned food, will you follow me, okay?"

Bu Doudou tilted his head to look at him, and there was a clear sky in his blue eyes.

Songran did not expect that He Zhiyuan would still be willing to talk to him.

When Bubu brought the phone the next night, he was lying silently on the sofa and folding stars. He folded hundreds of them, and petals fell on his feet.

He stared at the bright screen, looked at the word "Daddy" above, and didn't even dare to stretch out his hand.

"Brother, pick it up soon." Bubu handed it forward and urged, "Paba wants to talk to you."

Songran took the phone and slowly put it to his ear, feeling that it was a hand grenade with the safety plug opened, which might explode at any time, and even the slight white noise in the receiver made him frightened.

He did not dare to speak, and waited with bated breath. After a while, he heard He Zhiyuan say: "Songran, I think we need to talk about what happened last night."

The tone is flat, although not friendly, there is no too much blame.

As soon as he heard his voice, Songran couldn't hold it on the spot, and her nose was sour, she said first: "Mr. He, last night...Last night, I had a bad attitude. I didn't speak my mind and offended you. I solemnly apologize to you, the kind of 90-degree standard bow! Your adult does not remember the villain, and the prime minister can hold a boat in his belly, can you..."

He sincerely pleaded: "Can you forgive me?"

But He Zhiyuan replied: "No."

"Oh."

Expecting to fail, the answer was as expected, so she held her mobile phone and nodded blankly: "Then...I can't bring Bobu, right?"

"No." He Zhiyuan used succinct words to extinguish all his hopes, "Song Ran, this is what I want to talk to you. I contacted the housekeeping company, and tomorrow they will arrange an experienced new Auntie came to bring Bobu. Don’t worry, I personally screened the resume this time. The new aunt is very young, from a kindergarten teacher, can tell fairy tales, can make small wontons, and... very good at emotional control."

Hearing the last point he emphasized, Song Ran's heart instantly sank to the bottom.

"Songran, please understand me." He Zhiyuan's tone was indifferent and alienated, "I believe that last night was just an accident, and your character has no flaws, but out of the responsibility of the parents, I can only change Candidates."

Songran smiled dryly after hearing the words, "It's okay, I, I understand, I do...not suitable for bringing children."

He picked up a paper star, bit it with his teeth, and crushed it with great regret.

Look, there really is nothing wrong with you.

Make your mouth cheap, make you ashamed.

The paper star was bitten into a long paper tube, dangling back and forth in his mouth. Bu Doudou leaped in the air and quickly took it away with a paw. Songran was depressed, and grabbed another one and put it in his mouth, and chewed it hard. This is good. Not only did the child not have to take it, the neighbor relationship was also stale. In the future, you will have to pick the cat's eye first to prevent it. With bad luck, he ran into Mr. He head-on in the corridor, which was nothing but annoying.

How could there be a fool like him in the world?

No wonder no one wants it.

Songran draws an S on the sofa with his left thumb, and draws a B on the sofa with his right thumb, staring at the letters for a while, rubbing his feet uneasily, and inserting them into the corner of the sofa. a little.

He had been pretending to be mushrooms for a long time, and Mr. He remained silent before hanging up the phone.

Hurry up!

The blood bar is too thin to hold it.

Songran swallowed and stammered: "Uh, Mr. He, I'm really... I'm really sorry to you. I'm a person, sometimes my mind is not normal, if you haven't calmed down, or... you scold Come back? I promise to accept the teachings humbly and never reply a word!"

The other side seemed to sigh faintly, but remained silent.

Songran couldn't wait for a response, and buried her head lower and lower, with her cold forehead resting on her knees, her chest sore and sore: "Then...If you have nothing else, I, I won't bother you. Mr. He, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

He said three times I'm sorry, hurriedly touched the on-hook button, and pressed it down like an escape.

The phone fell, and Song Ran hugged her knees with her arms and fell into a long silence.

Bubu was still painting seriously in the dining room, immersed himself in coloring for a while, then picked and picked up the colored lead box. Songran looked up at his little back and asked, "Bobu, what do you want to eat tomorrow morning?"

"Tomorrow morning?" Bubu put down the pen and paper, twisted his body, and thought about it carefully, "I want to eat poached eggs and porridge tomorrow morning, preferably thick, thick and fragrant!"

Songran nodded: "Okay, brother will do it for you."

Brother will do everything for you.

He slumped down on the sofa for a while, then suddenly stood up, gathered a hundred scattered paper stars together, put them into a glass bottle, and picked up the picture books scattered around. They are neatly sized and divided into three stacks according to their age groups. They are stacked on the coffee table. Go to the bedroom and turn out a roll of nylon rope, tie each stack tightly, and pull out a beautiful bow.

Bubu likes fairy tale picture books so much, so let's give them away as gifts.

Anyway, if he wants to refer to it, he can also manage the magazine.

Bubu heard the movement and turned around curiously: "Brother, what are you doing?"

"The living room...it's a bit messy, I'll just tidy it up." Songran smiled forcefully, "Where's Boob? How's the painting done?"

Bubu grinned and said, "It's done well, but I haven't finished it yet. There are so many flowers today, and each flower has a color, and the eyes have to pick flowers! Brother, tomorrow you can draw less, and only draw two. I have already thought about it, one is painted big red and the other is bright yellow."

"Okay, tomorrow... My brother will only draw two flowers for you."

Songran spoke to the coffee table, feeling empty, not knowing who he was agreeing to.