Day0117:08

Songran is an illustrator for children's picture books.

He went to S City to work hard when he was a fledgling young man. He had been tumbling for years, and finally signed a long-term contract with several publishing houses. Because of his diligence, courtesy, and timely submission, the aunts, sisters and old aunts in the editorial department like him very much. They regard him as a son. They often talk about introducing a girlfriend to the positive young Ranran classmates. He always smiles and says no , Let it happen.

Just kidding, he is a gay, he can't cheat innocent girls.

Songran's sexual orientation is natural and hopeless to reverse. Although he has no time to fall in love for more than 20 years, and he hasn't really liked anyone, but the vague figure sweating on him in the spring dream is not a woman, and he is definitely not a woman.

Songran is single and has no partner yet.

When he first came to City S, he saw a pair of same-sex couples holding hands and shoulders in the subway. This gave him the wrong signal that the **** circle in City S was as ordinary and public as this couple. So he took the courage to go to GayBar for a night, but was forced to flee by the sensual coquettish costume and the slutty estrus atmosphere, and since then he severed the idea of ​​finding a partner in this way.

To this day, Songran has lived alone.

After the late spring, followed by the early summer, after the autumn frost, followed by the winter snow, he composed pictures under dense rain and flowering branches, painted in the warm sun and fallen leaves, quietly and quietly, and every stroke was peaceful.

Occasionally, he will faintly look forward to it, imagining what the other half of the future will be like. Songran likes this sense of anticipation very much. It makes life vigorous and encourages him to face everyone with a smile, because maybe at some inadvertent moment, the destined person will appear unexpectedly.

Songran hoped that the first expression she gave him was the cleanest smile.

Songran has two dimples, smiles very beautifully, reveals the rare innocence and tenderness of adults, and easily overcomes the aunts who are overwhelmed by maternal love in the editorial department.

However, from a certain day, he became lack of self-confidence.

For example, now he is standing at the entrance of the apartment hall, holding the access card in his hand, and practicing smiling at the floor-to-ceiling glass of Guang Ke Jian Ren over and over again, with a little nervousness on his limbs and lips.

The bright hall was empty, and it seemed that someone would come out at any time.

He watched from the corner of his light, urging himself to adjust his smile as soon as possible. A few seconds later, he swiped the card neatly, and a "dingdong" sound was heard above his head.

He pushed open the glass door, walked through the hall, and walked towards the residential elevator.

In the first step, no one appeared.

In the second step, no one showed up.

The third step, the fourth step...Every step I take, I feel more nervous.

After finishing fifteen steps, Songran stood in front of the two elevators and saw that their operation indicators were dim, and the number stayed on the 01th floor-which meant that he could not meet anyone coming down from the upper floors.

Song Ran sighed disappointedly.

Today, the probability of meeting that man is once again infinitely close to zero.

Songran patted the button to open the door, walked into the elevator, turned around, stared at the glass door when he came in, silently saying the last prayer.

There are five seconds before the elevator closes.

He has five seconds left.

If someone shows up, even if only a strand of broken hair or a piece of clothing is exposed, as long as he sees it, he will not hesitate to pat the button to open the door.

But no.

Fate still forgot to take care of him.

The elevator doors are closed step by step like every day before. The bright four-sided steel walls are seamlessly stitched, and the overhead is two rows of inlaid frosted lights. As the floor numbers continue to jump, the atmosphere in the elevator becomes depressing. Songran leaned back against the wall and exhaled a long breath.

It's ok.

He told himself.

What if you don't meet it today? He still has tomorrow, the day after tomorrow, the day after tomorrow... As long as he lives here and waits patiently, one day in the future, he will always have a chance to meet that man again.

Songran is a very optimistic person. As a children's illustrator, his life is full of innocent and interesting fairy tales. Over time, he has maintained a mentality of a big boy. The children believe in Santa Claus and Moon Rabbit Laurel, and he believes in the fate between people, even if the futile wait has lasted for more than forty days, he still believes that fate exists.

What is fate?

The fate is probably that on a boring afternoon, Songran, who never defaulted on rent, received a call from the landlord, saying that something went wrong with his own business, and the house had to be taken back and put on the market for sale. It was troublesome to renew the rent to him. He found a place to stay as early as possible.

Just before receiving that call, Songran had just finished submitting the manuscript, feeling relaxed, and rarely had the urge to act like a baby, so she propped her chin, pouted, and whispered in the editorial department.

Just as he spoke, Aunt Ji, who was searching for discounted skirts next to him, read the last line of the Taobao page and clicked to turn the page. The screen went blank, giving the ears a second of free time, just to catch the complaint.

Just an hour ago, Aunt Ji had a new key in her bag.

This key can open the door of 8012A, Building 5, Bishuiwanju.

Aunt Ji has an old girlfriend of decades, whose surname is Liu. Half a year ago, this old girlfriend and her husband bought a new home in Bishuiwanju. They had just finished the decoration and furniture. Not a few days after they had lived, their daughter from Australia called an urgent phone call and said it was born early. Granddaughter. The couple hurriedly bought air tickets and flew to Melbourne. They had no time to find foster care for the puppet cats at home. They had to return half a year later, so they entrusted Aunt Ji to rent out a clean and cat-loving young man. Hire someone to look after the cat for them.

The point is that the rent is only charged for two thousand and one month.

The old couple surnamed Liu are retired professors of F University. They have taught for 30 years and have a deep affection for the campus. They bought the house within walking distance of Metro Line 10. In addition, it is close to the embassy area, with excellent public security and high-end environment. The normal rent of Bishuiwanju is about 8,000 per month, which is four times beyond Songran's ability to bear.

Yes, exactly four times.

In S City, where money flows, with Songran's meager income, he can only afford to rent an old house of 30 square meters built in the 1980s and blacked out by a coal cake oven.

The one-bedroom apartment that Songran rented before was a product of the last century, leaking water and air, and very poor lighting. At the time of planning, I didn't care much. The doors of two households in the corner were close to each other, and the anti-theft door was often stuck in a stalemate. The next door quarreled and slammed the door, "Kang Kang" hit the door of Songran's house.

When Songran concentrated on creating, it was easy to be frightened. When the door slammed and his hand shook, the work he worked so hard to paint was ruined. Occasionally, with good luck, it can be saved by tinkering, and most of the time I can only repaint.

The bear child upstairs was also not at ease. Just after Songran finished the background color several times, the bear child bounced his feet, and the white paint on the ceiling was loose, mixed with dust and falling down, covered in light, fresh watercolor. You can't blow it off. Looking at the canvas like a construction site, he thought about it and couldn't find a solution, so he rubbed his hair and sat on the bed in a daze.

To be honest, Songran wanted to say goodbye to the slums, but when the sky really fell, a two-hundred-square-meter, prime location, and a monthly rent of two thousand good residences, he found that he could not take advantage of this advantage.

Aunt Ji had a warm heart. She grabbed her bag shortly after five o'clock and drove her to see the house like a cow.

Songran was standing at the gate of the community in a cute cat pullover with a hand-painted kit on his back, watching the private cars with rare car logos passing by, and then was surprised to find that in ten minutes, Apart from them, no third person walked in.

This place is obviously not suitable for mortals to live in-he can't always park the old bicycle with 0 displacement and these big guys with 4 or 5 displacement in the underground garage, right?

Moreover, there is no vegetable market around.

On the way from the subway station, Songran saw a pet clinic opened by a French doctor, an izakaya with red paper lanterns at the door, comparable to the theater of a five-star hotel, and an imported supermarket specializing in organic food...near Bishuiwanju The building reached the realm of inhumane fireworks, and he drove the small vegetable market out of the downtown area four or five blocks away. I really don’t know what the rich eat.

For the same expenditure of 2,000 yuan, instead of adding 100 square meters of extra space, Songran hopes to exchange for a suitable living environment, preferably a lively community, you can see the old man wearing a vest carrying a basket of vegetables when you go out. Teddy's kind.

Songran knows what he wants, so he has a persistent attitude.

At least after looking at the house with Aunt Ji, taking the elevator down, walking past the two-meter-wide wooden bridge over the shallow pool, the moment he turned his head and looked back, he was still trying to decline, and said, "The rent is so cheap." , The house is big, and I don’t have much experience in raising cats, you still..."

While speaking, a silver-gray Infiniti drove into the field of vision from the right, slowed down smoothly to zero, put in reverse gear, and fell into the five umbrella caravan spaces.

More than forty days have passed, and Songran still remembers every frame at that time.

The windows of the car are rolled down, there is plenty of daylight, everything is like pre-arranged, to show him the man in the driver's seat in the most perfect way-sitting upright, muscles relaxed, left hand on the top of the steering wheel, light blue His cotton shirt has a collar button and the cuffs are neatly rolled to the forearm.

His profile is almost perfect, especially the bridge of his nose and brow bones.

He raised his neck slightly, the back of his head was against the back of the seat, the corners of his lips were raised, and he was chatting with the person whose back seat was blocked by the car window. Because I had a good chat, I smiled naturally, and those smiling eyes seemed to condense the ultimate tenderness of the world.

The speed was accurately zeroed at one and a half parking spaces, and the car stopped so securely that there was no one centimeter forward. The man changed gears casually, glanced at the rearview mirror from the corner of his eye, and started to reverse the car skillfully.

When it hits the full direction, the wheel rotates, and the body traverses a perfect arc, and it is put into the warehouse without rush.

As the angle changed, the man's profile gradually turned into a straight face, and his handsome eyebrows and pleasant smile were clearly displayed in front of Songran.

Songran stood on the wooden bridge, clutching the corner of the T-shirt tightly, feeling his whole body hot.

His eyes had been lingering in thousands of beautiful colors, but at this moment he could only accommodate this man.

In the past, Songran read gossip magazines with her sisters from the publishing house, and read a list called "What do men do most handsomely". The elder sisters yelled while holding the magazine, and they all expressed that they couldn't agree more. Song Ran looked blank, and a pulsating question mark appeared above her head, thinking seriously about where the action was.

Now he stared at the car, breathing disorder, blood flowing backwards, adrenaline boiling like boiling water, and he knew exactly what the sisters felt at the time.

The man is really **** while reversing smoothly!

In ancient times, a keen hunter's ability to control direction would make all the females in the race fall over. This instinct to admire the strong has been passed on from generation to generation, and it has gone beyond the scope of reason and has become an inducement to ignite hormones.

Infiniti's engine turned off, and on the wooden bridge opposite, the love in Songran's heart was burning hot in his chest.

In twenty-three years, his belated love awakened for the first time.

The man pulled out the key, opened the door and got out of the car.

One meter eighty six.

Or one meter 87.

Songran is a kneeling looking person, kneeling in the dust, unable to accurately estimate the height of the man, only to see that he is in excellent shape, his appearance is not messed up after a day trip, his shirt is as smooth as before, and a strong chest and abdomen are faintly outlined. The muscles, the hem is neatly gathered in the waistband by the belt, a typical elite style.

He has a pair of long legs, in Song Ran's eyes, that is the king's scepter-upright, sacred, and exudes a powerful aura.

The man stretched out his hand to open the back seat door, bent over and leaned into his upper body, and when he came out again, he had a small child in his arms. The child twisted his **** and sat down on his father's arm, wrapped his small arm around his neck, and kissed awkwardly on the cheek.

If it was said that Songran had just fallen into the huge impact of love, then at this moment, when the picture of a man holding a young son came into view, Songran was almost stunned.

This is a perfect man.

He belongs to the family.

It is difficult for Songran to tell whether it is the dual identity of husband and father that has added a mature texture to this man, which makes him a fatal attraction, or the happy family behind him that fills Songran's deep heart for home. desire.

Song Ran has no home.

He had it when he was very young and lost it when he was very young.

At this moment, he was standing on the wooden bridge, watching the man holding the young son from a distance, throwing, catching, and jokingly walking into the meeting room of Building No. 5, then suddenly turned around and took the key from Aunt Ji's hand.

He wants to live here.

Because on one floor of this building, he lives with a complete family, perhaps very close to the twelfth floor where he will live. They represent the most admired vision in Song Ran's heart. Across the wall and the floor, those inaudible and invisible laughter and laughter can shield Song Ran's heart in imagination.

A good man deserves a good family to match. Sometimes, the rules of the world are not too bad.

Songran thought so.

He doesn't disturb the lives of his neighbors, he just wants to get closer, draw from the happiness of others, and breathe a bit of family warmth-they are his fairy tales.

No one can enter the fairy tale world, but as long as you believe in its existence, you can live happily.

The elevator stopped on the twelfth floor, and the indicator light lit up and flickered softly. Songran adjusted his emotions from the faint disappointment and walked out of the elevator.

There are two households on each floor of Bishuiwan Residence. Go out of the elevator and turn right into Room A, and turn left into Room B. The public area is a smooth beige marble brick surface, and the private space starts from the respective door blanket and extends to the shoe rack and flower stand by the window.

The door blanket of Songran's house is huge, it is a soft tuft of material, and it shows a chipmunk submerged in a pile of pine cones. Last year, he drew the cover and illustrations for "The Chipmunk's Dream", but he was a little popular and made a few peripherals. Songran wanted to ask for a doll, but unfortunately the old aunts in the publishing house have grandchildren in their homes, and they are extremely powerful. He only grabbed a play blanket for toddlers after squeezing his head. He couldn't decide where to put it, so he threw it out When the door blanket. In contrast, the door blanket in Room B is much more serious-the standard size rectangle, bristles, dark gray, and the material is quite resistant to dirt, indicating that the owner has a determined and capable character.

Songran took off the canvas shoes, put them on the shoe rack upright, inserted the access card into the card slot, and with a beep, the keyhole flashed out.

He took out the key to open the door and observed the plants on the flower stand before going in.

The bellflowers and sunflowers are growing well, full of color, and full of energy in the sun. The soil is soft and moist. It doesn't need to be hydrated for the time being, just spray a little mist on the petals and leaves.

Then he remembered something, turned around, jumped up to the opposite flower table with one foot, stretched his neck and took a look-sure enough, the two pots of Casablanca were already dead, and the expensive nutrient soil was completely cracked. When he first moved in last month, the flower was a little wilted. He couldn't see it, so he quietly helped to water it for two weeks. According to this, he might have misunderstood that the flower is the same family as the cactus, and it can live without watering.

Songran was worthless for the flowers and plants, made a face toward room B, and jumped back again.

Twelve kilograms of plush dumplings were waiting inside the door. Seeing Songran's return, he first whispered and then fell to the ground, exposing his white belly, and begged meow to touch.

Songran soothed it, added water and cat food to the cat bowl, and started to make dinner for herself.

There are fresh asparagus and shrimp in the refrigerator. Songran fasten the apron, defrost the ingredients, marinate the shrimp in a small bowl of cooking wine and ginger, cut the asparagus on the cutting board, and cook the white porridge in a small casserole. He especially liked the sound of thick porridge bubbling. He felt that it was food singing, so he whispered the tune while shaking the pot and spoon to beat.

Stir-fry the ingredients over high heat, pour them into the porridge pot and stir clockwise evenly.

Songran didn't like the color, so he added a small spoonful of seafood soy sauce. The steam is rising from the pot and the soy sauce is tangy, which makes people greedy.

When the porridge is cooked and the stove is cleaned, the sky outside the window is already dark.

Songran remembered that he still had to spray the flowers and plants, picked up the spray bottle, picked up some water under the faucet, pulled the slippers and pushed out the door. He just pushed open a seam, he felt a little strange in the hand, the door seemed to be blocked by something, and when he tried harder, there was a muffled cry in the dark, the voice of a child.

When the child cried, the voice-activated light in the public area immediately turned on.

Songran poked his head out from the crack in the door, and saw a little boy sitting on the chipmunk door blanket, holding a small schoolbag with his left hand and propping on the ground with his right hand, looking up at him with a grieved face. There were bright teardrops swirling in a pair of black water spirit's big eyes, which made people think of flowing crystals.

Songran became nervous, and a series of water mist came out from the spray bottle.

"Baby, you... whose child are you?"

Day0119:11

Songran's evaluation of 8012B has fallen below a new historical low-this family grows flowers as they please, and raises children even more as they please.

At seven o'clock in the evening, my mother was nowhere to be seen. My father flew 10,000 kilometers away on a business trip. The housekeeper neglected his duty. He posted a leave note on the door and slipped the number. The name was only nine characters. Back-Huang Guihua).

The little boy in this family is only four years old. After the kindergarten, he couldn’t wait for the babysitter to pick him up. He wandered along the boulevard for two hours alone—walking for an hour, squatting outside the pet shop with a dog Big Golden Retriever clapped his hands through the glass for half an hour, then sneaked into the cinema to watch the trailer of the same Disney cartoon for half an hour.

He wandered around like this to kill time, taking a look at the traffic-ridden street from time to time, wanting to wait for someone to take him home. But the setting sun finally sank, the sound of the wind became rapid, and the street lamps lit up one by one, lengthening the shadows on the soles of the feet.

He reluctantly returned to Bishuiwanju, and didn't have the courage to walk into the dark home, so he sat hungry on the door blanket of 8012A, talking to the immobile chipmunk, crackling and crying.

If Songran didn't come out to water the flowers, the child might really be able to stay at the door all night.

The boy Ranran's classmate's love and anger exploded at the same time, and without hesitation, he took the poor baby back home.

The baby whose surname is He, whose name is He Yueyang, and whose nickname is Bubu, is sitting at the dining table of Songran's house, with a white canvas on his chest, and two sharp corners of the cloth make a beautiful look on the back of the neck. Bow.

He poked his head hard and looked eagerly toward the kitchen.

The fragrant smell of food floated out, the pot was blocked by Songran, and even the shadow was invisible. He was anxious, his round buttocks pouted, and he refused to sit still for half a second, as if the chair was covered with wax. On the sofa not far away, the puppet cat was looking at him in the posture of a peasant farmer, his light gray tail flicking twice from time to time.

"Brother, Bubu is hungry, want to eat..."

He acted softly to Songran, rubbing his belly while sniffing, indicating that he was really hungry.

Songran opened the heat to heat the oil, smashed an egg and broke it into the pot. After holding a shovel, he jumped a few steps and poked his head out of the kitchen: "Wait a minute, it will be ready soon!"

By the way, he threw his hand and put the eggshell into the trash can.

"Oh!"

Bubu lowered his head, bit the canvas in one bite, dangling into his mouth, bulging his cheeks, twisting his hips even more jubilantly.

On the flow table, the shallow open bowl is cold with asparagus and shrimp porridge. In the pan, the wooden shovel turned the yellow poached egg over.

When the child was growing up, Songran was worried that the porridge would not be nutritious, and took two minutes to fry a poached egg. Taking into account the taste, he deliberately fry it into a half-boiled soft-boiled egg, sprinkle it with salt and put it on a plate. The bowl comes out together.

He scooped up a spoonful of porridge, blew it to the cold, and handed it to Bobo's mouth, remembering something temporarily, and then retracted the spoon a little: "Have you eaten shrimp before?"

Bubu nodded, "Eat it."

That's good, there should be no seafood allergy.

Song Ran put his heart down and passed the spoon. **** swallowed the mountains and rivers, opened his mouth wide and bit the porridge with a spoon, giggled at him mischievously, laughed for a while before letting go, and ate the porridge with relish.

Songran wiped the corners of the child's mouth with the canvas and scooped up another shrimp. This time Bobu shook his head and refused to open his mouth.

He said proudly, "Brother, I can eat myself!"

The small spoon touched the porcelain bowl with a crisp sound.

Ding, ding, ding.

Songran also served himself a bowl of porridge, sat next to him, and watched Bobo eating with interest.

The child is not fast, but is surprisingly organized, the height of the shrimp porridge is almost reduced in proportion to the size of the poached egg. Fifteen minutes later, he sucked up the yolk of the heart-wrenching egg, swallowed the last bit of egg white, and burped a little satisfyingly, with a circle of funny egg juice on his lips.

There was only a shallow bottom of the porridge in the bowl. Just as Songran thought about getting up to clean it up, Bubu suddenly became nervous, sat upright, took the small bowl into his arms, and hurriedly scooped a small spoon into his mouth.

He ate very carefully this time, scooping only two or three grains per spoon, and chewing slowly, as if the few grains of rice had something special.

Songran asked him, "Is it delicious?"

Bubu nodded.

Songran asked again: "Are you full?"

Bubu hurriedly hugged the small bowl, his head shook like a rattle.

How can you answer that you are full? When he is full, there is no reason to stay at his brother's house. He will be a sensible and obedient child and go to sleep in his dark home. But he is the only person in the family, alone, not as bright here, not as warm as here.

Eat two more bites.

Eat two more bites and you can stay for a while longer.

The child's eyes are clear glass, hiding a heart that can't lie. Songran saw how nervous he was, and understood everything that should be understood. He laughed, and said softly to Bubu: "We are not in a hurry to eat, we should save a little appetite, and we will eat fruit later."

Bobu didn't need to leave as soon as he heard it, his eyes brightened, and he threw away the small spoon.

After dinner, Songran took off the canvas on Bobo's neck, took him to the bathroom to rinse his mouth, wash his hands, dry every finger gap with a white towel, and then apply a layer of Dabao hand cream.

The cloth was very well-behaved throughout the whole process, spread out his fingers, and placed it flat in front of Songran, and said politely after wiping, "Thank you, brother."

A particularly sensible child.

Songran always feels that there is an obvious restraint in his sensibility, especially his eyes, with a nervous sense of anxiety and waiting to be evaluated, like a well-trained puppy, if he fails to do it at the right time If you perform appropriate actions, you will not get rewards from the owner.

why?

Is it because you are at a stranger's house, so you behave more cautiously than usual? Or does he think too much?

Song Ran can't be sure.

However, when they came to the living room, Bubu finally yelled "Wow" and opened his eyes wide, showing the joyful expression of a child as Songran expected.

"Brother, you have so many fairy tale books here!"

He pointed at the coffee table and looked up at Song Ran excitedly.

On the sofa, coffee table and floor in the living room, there are nearly a hundred picture books of children's stories scattered all over the place. There are individual books, series, domestic and foreign ones.

Since I moved to Bishuiwan Residence, I have a spacious and bright living room, so Songran doesn't have to paint in a small cramped room like before. He moved the workbench to the floor-to-ceiling window in the living room, and when he was studying the books, he picked up one and put aside one, and put it away randomly. Anyway, there was no visitor, so he never bothered to clean it up.

These picture books with pen, paper and paint are all the things Songran depends on for survival.

Bubu saw Yishui's storybook, his eyes gleamed, like a mouse falling into a rice tank, looking at the posture, he planned to mix and eat for the rest of his life and wait for death. In nearly a hundred dazzling covers, he discovered "The Chipmunk's Dream" at first sight.

There are many similar chipmunks in this world, but for ****, this is only unique.

It is an old friend of Bubu.

A month ago, this chipmunk magically came to the door of 8012A, and happened to have a face-to-face encounter with Bubu who was out early in the morning. It has light chestnut-colored back lines, thin and pointed claws, black bean-like eyes, and two exaggerated cheek pouches. It squats in a tall pile of pine cones, with a large golden parasol sea in the background.

**** fell in love with it at first sight, thinking about it day and night.

When he goes to kindergarten in the morning, he has to say hello to the chipmunk (I'm leaving), and when he comes back from kindergarten in the evening, he also has to say hello to the chipmunk (I'm back). Occasionally, when his father is not at home, Bubu feels lonely, so he sneaks out while the babysitter is not paying attention, sits beside the chipmunk and strokes its fluffy fur, asking him to comfort him.

The tufts are warm, and the chipmunks printed on them look real.

Bubu even thought: If he has a live chipmunk, it feels...it's almost like this.

It is an interesting and loyal friend who stays in place 24 hours a day, always colorful and full of spirits. It has a bunch of crunchy pine cones that you can't finish eating, and a golden autumn that the sun can never finish.

This frozen picture on the door blanket is a cover that cannot be opened.

**** read it for a whole month.

Tonight, the cover was finally opened, and he was pleasantly surprised to see that on the title page, the familiar old friend changed an action-it stood up, held a large pine cone in his hand, and looked into the distance with his head.

A simple handwritten signature was printed on the paper page it looked at.

Song Ran.

Bubu was still illiterate on this day, and his attention was all on the chipmunk, so naturally, he skipped this friendly name, which will be called for many years in the future, and turned directly to the next page.

The next page is where the story begins.

The golden sycamore leaves fell to the ground, and the little chipmunk lay in the autumn sun, dozing lazily-what interesting and rare things will it encounter?

I really want to know.

Bubu plucked up the courage, holding the picture album and asking Songran: "Brother, can you tell me this story?"

Songran readily agreed: "Okay."

Tableware can be collected later, and fruits can be washed later. The baby said to listen to the story, so this is the most important thing right now.

The fabric sofa sank deeply, and Bubu sat on Songran's lap, leaning on his arms, and opened his dream album. Seeing this, the big hairy dumpling Budoudou next to it, meowed jealously, rolled his belly down from the armrest and lay beside them.

"Once upon a time, there was a big forest, and there lived a cute chipmunk in the forest."

Songran opened his mouth to recite the first line, and Bubu focused his attention, staring at every detail of the picture.

This story is so familiar to Song Ran, as long as you close your eyes, every painting and every line of words will turn into a stream of fireflies in the summer night, fluttering and floating in front of his eyes.

This chipmunk is playful and lazy.

Autumn is coming, its neighbor grey squirrel is busy collecting pine cones and preparing to collect food for the winter, but the chipmunk squatted on the branch to play with the caterpillars. Slowly, autumn passed and winter was coming. The gray squirrel filled half of the room with pine cones, and the chipmunk was still swinging with its tail hanging from the branch.

The gray squirrel asked: "When will you start picking pine cones?"

The chipmunk replied: "No hurry, no hurry. I have a dream, I want to find the largest pine cone in the world, just one, it will be enough for me not to go hungry all winter."

Finally, winter is here.

When the first heavy snow fell, the gray squirrel's pine cones just filled the room, but what about the chipmunks?

There is no pine cone in the chipmunk's house.

It was hungry, so he set out to find the biggest pine cone in the legend, but there was so much snow outside, where could the shadow of the pine cone be seen?

When the chipmunk heard that the rabbit had a big pine cone, he went to the door. But the pine cone of the rabbit's house was used as a beautiful locker, full of carrots.

"No way, no way, how can I eat someone else's locker?"

The chipmunk shook his head and left the rabbit's house hungry.

He heard that the hedgehog's house had a big pine cone, so he went to the door. But the pine cones of Hedgehog's house are regarded as a beautiful Christmas tree, full of colorful gifts.

"No way, no way, how can I eat someone else's Christmas tree?"

The chipmunk shook his head and left the hedgehog's house hungry.

He heard that there was a big pine cone in the Ant's house, so he went to the door. But the pine cones at Ant's house are regarded as a beautiful playground filled with happy ant babies.

"No way, no way, how can I eat other people's playground?"

The chipmunk shook his head and left the ant's house hungry.

The chipmunk searched for a long, long time, until the end, it failed to find the largest pine cone in the world. It came home dejectedly, grumbled with hunger. At this moment, the neighbor grey squirrel came and knocked on the door. It asked the chipmunk: "Has your dream come true?"

The chipmunk shook his head embarrassedly.

"Next year, it will definitely happen next year!"

It assured the gray squirrel, but his stomach screamed louder and louder.

The gray squirrel took out a huge pine cone from behind, held it in front of the chipmunk, and said to it, "I will give you this pine cone. This is not the largest pine cone in the world, nor the largest pine cone in the forest. Fruit, just the biggest pine cone in my family."

The chipmunk took the pine cone and hugged it in his arms, feeling as if he had got a locker, a Christmas tree, a playground, and a best friend.

He thought, this must be the largest pine cone in the world.

"and after?"

Bobo turned another page, the picture book was closed, and a bar code was stamped on the squirrel's tail on the back cover, announcing the end of the story.

He still had questions in his mind, so he asked: "Brother, did the chipmunk eat the pine cones later?"

Songran never thought about this question. He squeezed his chin and pondered it for a while, and answered honestly: "I don't know, but I guess he should have saved the pine cones-it was a gift from a friend. "

"But if the food is not eaten quickly, it will go bad immediately, for example..." Bubu racked his brains, "for example donut (donuts)!"

An English word came out casually.

"Then eat it." Songran smiled, "In fact, it doesn't matter whether you eat it or not, as long as your friends are there, there will always be gifts."

"Yes!"

**** thinks it makes sense-as long as the gray squirrel is a neighbor, the chipmunk will definitely receive more pine cones in the future.

His mood suddenly relaxed, and he lay in Songran's arms holding "The Chipmunk's Dream", squinted and smiled: "Brother, your story is so good, much better than what your mother-in-law tells. Mother-in-law doesn't like it. Tell me stories. They are always very fast, very impatient, and have a little accent. I can't understand... Brother, do you often tell stories?"

Songran scratched the back of his head: "Uh, it's okay."

Roughly speaking, it has been more than seven years since the last time he told a story to his children, and his skill has not diminished, which is gratifying.

**** got up while rolling, put down "The Chipmunk's Dream", grabbed a new picture book, and held it to Songran expectantly: "Brother, you tell me one more, okay?"

Songran raised his head to look at the wall clock. The pointer was close to nine o'clock. The baby was only four years old. It was time to take a bath and go to bed.

He pointed to the moon, flying carpet and chimney on the cover and said, "Bobo, this is a bedtime story. You can have a sweet dream only if you listen to it before going to bed. Let's eat fruit first and go to bed later. Speak, OK?"

**** was obviously taken aback.

He held the picture book in his arms, his eyes were dumb, and he couldn't believe his ears. It took a long time to realize that Song Ran was inviting him to stay overnight, and immediately nodded in ecstasy: "Okay, okay!"

Songran bent down and took out a card book from the drawer of the coffee table. It was "The Hungry Caterpillar" by Eric Carle. He collected a complete set of original hardcover editions of the old man's early works, and he turned them out for worship when he had time. This article is particularly simple and classic. It is about a little caterpillar who eats various foods every day. From Monday to Sunday, it finally grows into a big butterfly.

He asked Bubu: "You can read English, right?"

Bubu nodded and said, "Yeah."

Songran put the booklet on his lap, touched the top of his head, and said with a smile: "I'm going to wash some strawberries. The little caterpillar will chew the book here for a while. Be obedient."

"Well, it must be obedient."

Bu Bu sweetly agreed.

At 8:50 in the evening, the pots and pans in the kitchen were jingling, and the mint-flavored dishwashing liquid made a ball of white bubbles.

Songran was brushing the bowl, humming an unknown little tune in his mouth, and Bubu was lying on the sofa, turning pages one by one, with a small strawberry in his mouth. The caterpillar in the book has a very good appetite. It ate smoothly from Monday to Saturday. Just when it was about to pupate and transform into butterflies, a string of cute bells rang in the living room.

"Pika Pika-Pi-Ka-Chu! Pickup-Pi-Ka-Chu!"

Bubu's eyes lit up: "Ah, it's Dad!"

He quickly jumped off the sofa, pulled out a children's mobile phone from his schoolbag, pressed the answer button, and yelled into the microphone sweetly, "Good morning, Diba!"

Pull out?

Song Ran frowned slightly.

It was the fourth sound just now, and it became the second sound in the blink of an eye. How good this child is.

He turned his head and saw that Bubu was holding his mobile phone, jumping while chatting, and his feet made a series of small, brisk steps. The big hair dumpling followed behind with his tail cocked, one person and one cat lapped around the table twice, and finally twisted back to the sofa.

Songran smiled and shook his head, and continued to wash the bowls carefully. Halfway through, **** suddenly came in with his head: "Brother, what is the name of the green one we ate just now, a little bit?"

Song Ran said: "Asparagus."

"asparagus!"

Bubu hurriedly conveyed to his father on the phone, and asked, "Where is the red one?"

Songran said: "Shrimp."

"Shrimp! Shrimp!"

Bubu was very happy, and repeated it twice to the phone, for fear that his father could not understand it. After a while, he said: "In addition to the porridge, there is also a poached egg. My brother fried it specially for me. It is very fragrant and more fragrant than my mother-in-law fried!"

Then a question was thrown on the other side. Bubu hesitated and couldn’t answer. He pattered and ran for nearly two steps, holding the phone to Songran: "Dad asked me why my brother is cooking today, not Mother-in-law?"

I am ashamed to ask.

The corner of Songran's mouth curled up, and she slandered: Your nanny Huang Guihua has slipped out of her account. You, a parent, don't know until now, you don't care about it?

His two hands were covered with foam and could not hold the phone, so he bent down, motioned for Bubu to put the phone on his shoulder, tilted his head and clamped it with his ears, stood up and continued to wash the bowl.

"Hello, hello."

Songran said hello formulaically.

Three seconds later, his movements suddenly stiffened, and the porcelain bowl in his hand fell off with a scream.

Bubu exclaimed: "Brother!"

Songran shrugged off the steel wire ball when she was electrocuted, grabbed the towel next to her and wiped her hand indiscriminately, eager to remove the phone from her ear. In the chaos, the phone accidentally dropped and fell onto the flow table, spinning slowly for half a circle.

Songran stared at it, the blood vessels were dilated, his cheeks were hot, his neck and ears were red.

The other party actually only said a word.

Ten words.

"Hello, I am He Yueyang's father."

This is the first time Songran heard He Zhiyuan's voice.

Low and **** tone, because the owner of the voice has just awakened from his sleep and brought a lazy smile, so close, biting words against his ears, a warm incense wind blowing between his lips and teeth, blowing over the eardrums, let Songran The unsuspecting heart throbbed.

"..."

Fast heartbeat and hypoxia in the brain.

Song Ran's scalp was suddenly crisp, don't say anything, he didn't even remember his name or name.

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 of the west coast of North America.

The small town of Palo Alto is quiet and gray, with red and green lights alternately lonely at the street, and a 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.

Sword Arc.

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. "**** 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 fell.

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 to make 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.”

"****?"

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.

**** 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.

**** 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!"