Times of Our Lives

Zhang Xiujuan's body became worse and worse after the summer vacation, and she was so poor that she could sometimes fall asleep even in the yard. Xie Mengde kept watching her to prevent the old lady from getting cold or heat stroke.

Ji Qinyang's music scores came out before the third year of high school. Xie Meng didn't ask, and the boys didn't say. The head teacher of Class 6 asked him to talk a few times. It seems that many conservatories have handed out olive branches.

The schoolwork is heavy, and the pile of papers is like a mountain. It seems that the time spent in leisure is precious. Xie Mengde spends a lot of time reviewing Chinese. Ji Qinyang sits opposite him to help guide.

"Since Nalan Rongruo's poem, expressing the feeling of love."

Xie Meng wrote in the book: "If you only see life for the first time ..."

Ji Qinyang laughed: "Not this sentence."

Xie Meng glanced at him: "This sentence is familiar."

Ji Qinyang shook his head with a smile. He took Xie Meng's book. The characters of the boy were as delicate and beautiful as a man, and he wrote one stroke at a time: "One lifetime, one person, two people fighting for teaching *. For whom spring is spring. "

In early October, Ji Qinyang began to prepare for an interview at the Beijing Central Conservatory of Music. He asked for a month long vacation, and Mo Suyuan planned to accompany him throughout the process.

"We can go to Beijing this time and have fun." My mother sorted out the clothes and luggage to take away: "I remember you went there when you were very young, I don't know what it is like now."

Ji Qinyang sat in a daze by the window, he had no interest, and the headphones hung around his neck.

Mo Suyuan glanced at her son, and she pondered for a while before slowly saying, "Don't you want to go to Zhongyin?"

Ji Qinyang turned his face and raised an eyebrow, "Of course not ... don't think about it."

Mo Suyuan sighed: "I just think you are not enthusiastic. When I received the recommendation letter before, I was quite interested in seeing you, but I didn't see you paying much attention to this test." Mo Suyuan held out her hand, She took care of her son's bangs and said gently: "I know you also reported to Shangyue ... but what you really want, mom still wants you to think clearly."

Ji Qinyang clasped his earphones on his head. He pulled the handrail. With the carriage shaking, Shantang Street was crowded with people at all times except for the New Year. The station was crowded with people waiting for the car.

There is a stall of fried stinky tofu on the bridge. The hawker is already familiar with Ji Qinyang. He said hello all the time: "Did you eat today?"

Ji Qinyang smiled and waved, "No."

He got off the bridge, walked on the shore; crossed the narrow alley, and finally stopped at the gate of Xie Meng's courtyard.

Zhang Xiujuan was sitting on a rattan chair in the yard, and the half-closed lintel blocked Ji Qinyang's figure. She did not see him.

The boy stood quietly for a while, he heard Xie Meng shouting in the room: "Good wife."

The old radio next to Zhang Xiujuan had "Dream of Red Mansions" on it. The old lady was so fascinated that it took a long time to agree: "Oh."

Xie Meng stepped out, holding a bowl of chopsticks in his hand.

"Good wife," the boy coaxed, "I'm eating."

Zhang Xiujuan is not as happy as a child: "Can't eat."

Xie Meng dragged his chair over and said, "Eat something you can't eat, I'll feed you."

The old lady murmured something again, and finally obediently ate the meal that the little grandson passed to her mouth.

"Old." Zhang Xiujuan sighed as she ate, "I have been dreaming these days, dreaming of your parents, saying that you would pick me up to honor me."

Xie Meng smiled: "I don't respect you enough."

Zhang Xiujuan snorted: "It's not your turn to be respected."

Xie Meng didn't speak. He fed a few bites of food and stopped suddenly, holding Zhang Xiujuan's hand: "Let me be respectful. I respect you until you are 100 years old. If you live to be 100 years old, you will lose."

"Stupid child." The old lady was happy: "Who can live a hundred years, it's all deceiving in the script." Zhang Xiujuan straightened the hair next to her ear, and she patted Xie Meng's hand all at once. : "Good wife, I don't want to drag you down ... Have you been to the university in the capital, right? That's where I've been, my wife, I've never been in my life, if my grandchildren can go, that's a lot A matter of pride. "

Zhang Xiujuan looked at Xie Meng. The wrinkles around the corners of her eyes seemed to be engraved with lines of annual rings, but her eyes were still clear: "Sun and Sun, you have to remember." She smiled and said, "Good wife is not your future. In the future, You will meet someone who is more important than me. You, you have to go a long, long journey with that person, live a happy and happy life, and live a long life, just like what is written in the play. "

The book always says that when people are young, they tend to do impulsive things. Bread and love often require love, and they always regret when they mature. Such a statement, many years later, when Ji Qinyang was about to enter a year of no confusion, experienced a trough in life and career, and eventually succeeded, someone asked him the same question.

"I don't think so." The man's facial features are still exquisite after years of washing, and the glory of time is deposited between his eyebrows. Ji Qinyang supported his chin. He looked at the reporter who asked the question, and the little girl was stared at. Blushing, he looked down at the question draft in a panic.

"Well ... in other words, do you prefer to choose love?"

Ji Qinyang raised an eyebrow: "It's not about choosing love, but I still choose love."

"Don't you regret it?" The reporter asked.

"Why regret it?" Ji Qinyang smiled, and he turned his face to the audience. In the camera, he could clearly see an ordinary silver stud on his left earlobe.

"I lost bread," Ji Qinyang slowly said, "but I always have love."

However, when he was only sixteen or seventeen, as the book says, Ji Qinyang was impulsive.

The teenager was lying on the bank of the river with earphones and earphones, and he was sleeping on the bridge, letting the evening wind blow through his hot and fiery chest.

That belongs to this summer, the last wind.

When Ji Qinyang went to Beijing, Xie Meng did not see him off. He had a quiz that day, after receiving the text message from the boy after the test, the content was only a short four words: "Wait for me to come back."

Qi Fei stretched his arms around his back and murmured, "It seems that the boss has gone far away ... maybe only in winter and summer vacations every year?"

Xie Meng returned the text message, packed his schoolbag, and looked at him beside him: "I also want to go to Beijing, Xie Meng, how about you?"

Zhuo Xiaoyuan patted his scalp with no expression on his face: "You can get your results up first, you can take the test in Beijing?"

Xie Meng smiled. He bent his fingers and flicked the forehead: "Come on."

Zhang Xiujuan went to the hospital for another check a week ago, but the results were not very good. The doctor meant that the old man was old and made Xie Meng ready.

"My grandma has always been in good health." Xie Meng frowned calmly, "I woke up with me every morning last year."

The doctor sighed: "Many old people over 80 are like this. I have also encountered them before. They are generally in excellent health. The uncle who runs every morning suddenly goes to bed at night ... It has nothing to do with the disease. Old, sick and dead, when the age comes, there will always be one day. "

Xie Meng did not speak. He looked at Zhang Xiujuan, who was sitting in the corridor. The old lady was chatting with the patient next door, with a proud tone.

"My little grandson ... high school senior, the grade is good."

"Graduation to study in the capital ... How could it not be passed ?!"

"Yeah, yeah, but filial, my wife is blessed."

Xie Meng came out and called her: "Good wife."

The patient snorted and praised, "Your grandson looks amazing."

Zhang Xiujuan was very happy, Xie Meng was holding her, waiting for the old lady to say goodbye to her patients.

After leaving the gate of the hospital, Xie Meng called for a taxi. The car could only drive to the intersection of Shantang Street. When he got out of the car, Xie Meng squatted down in front of Zhang Xiujuan.

"Good wife." He smiled and said to the old lady, "I will carry you."

The setting sun stained the clouds in the sky, and the clear river under the bridge was glowing with light. Xie Meng carried Zhang Xiujuan slowly across the bluestone slab road, and the awning boat passed under his foot. The old lady hummed the purple bamboo tone on the grandson's back. .

Zhang Xiujuan hummed intermittently, Xie Meng was silent from beginning to end. The old woman hummed to half, suddenly remembered something, and asked Xie Meng: "Where is Xiaoji, why not come for a long time?"

Xie Meng entrusted him: "He has gone to Beijing for an exam and will be back next month."

Zhang Xiujuan laughed: "You see, everyone goes to the capital first ... you have to cheer, too."

Xie Meng did not answer, and when he was about to get home, he said something good.

At night, Zhang Xiujuan slept early. Xie Meng called Ji Qinyang in her room. The guy on the other side of the phone was a little dumb.

"A lot of singing these days," Ji Qinyang explained. "How about you, do you miss me?"

Xie Meng was lying on the bed, raising his arms to cover his eyes: "What do you say ... don't waste long distance calls."

Ji Qinyang smiled gently.

Xie Meng did not speak for a while, until he heard Ji Qinyang asked him, "How is a good wife?"

"It's okay," Xie Meng said, "as usual."

Ji Qinyang: "I will be back in half a month." The boy whispered, "Wait for me to accompany you."

After mid-October, the weather was getting colder, and the sun was good on weekends. Zhang Xiujuan had a hard time getting up early. Xie Meng finished punches and helped her bring the rattan chair and radio to the yard.

"What do you want to hear?" Xie Meng fiddled with the radio's play button. The old lady hadn't been so energetic for a long time, and he also relaxed a lot.

Zhang Xiujuan thought for a moment: "Let's just listen to my daughter."

Xie Meng laughed and said, "How many times have you heard it? I can't get tired of it." Complaining in the mouth, Xie Meng still released Wan Xiaoli's version of "Daughter Love". The radio was not very good. Speak out.

"I'm going to do laundry." Xie Meng rationalized Zhang Xiujuan's white hair: "What's wrong with me?"

Zhang Xiujuan didn't answer, her eyes narrowed with satisfaction in the sun.

Xie Meng entered the back room, he put on his clothes one by one, listening to some desolate voices of the male singer in the yard.

"鸳鸯 amphibious butterfly □□, full garden □□ intoxicating ..." The old-fashioned radio card was stuck, and some were difficult to put: "... Ask the monk, the daughter is beautiful ... the daughter ... not beautiful ... "

The radio stopped the music abruptly, leaving only a buzzing mechanical turning sound. Xie Meng frowned, and he shouted, "Good wife."

The sun drenched the fence in the yard, and the wind rustled the leaves falling on the ground. Zhang Xiujuan sat motionless on the rattan chair.

Xie Meng stood up: "Good wife?"

No one answered him.

The radio "clicked" and the play button popped out, quiet, and never rang again.