It is you I look up to, and it is him who watches the flowing water with me.

201710 June 15? Rain on Sunday

A few days of bleak autumn rain, this day is really cold. Looking out the window, it kept raining, and the wind could be heard intermittently.

I dressed in thin clothes and cleaned up the dining table. There was a crack in the kitchen window, and the wind blew in, so I sneezed several times in a row.

"Mr.zhou, it's getting cold these days. Remember to add clothes. You never take care of yourself. " Zixiu behind him, gently holding my waist, put on a cashmere sweater for me, and pulled the broken hair hanging from my forehead to my ear.

"I'm sorry, mr.zhou, I'm going on a business trip this weekend, so I can't accompany you. Come back next week and I will take you to have a good weekend. " Zixiu hugged me deeply behind him.

The autumn wind roared outside the window, and it was as warm as spring breeze outside the window. Zixiu let go of me gently, closed the door gently, and left me alone in this warm nest, waiting for his return.

I continue to arrange the flowers on the dining table, replace the flowers in the bottles in each room with fresh water, cut off the rotten roots, and care for the flowers with my heart to keep them clear and fragrant.

I sat on the carpet in front of the sofa, lit a column of agarwood, made a pot of aged Pu 'er, pulled out a book beside me and opened it at will. Oh, this book, San Mao's anthology, has not been turned over for a long time. I bought it in college. I remember that after I bought it, the girls in the dormitory took turns to borrow it. Every girl likes Sanmao, and in Sanmao's story, I don't know how many fallen flowers I dreamed.

This book is really a bit old, and it is yellow on all sides. When I opened it, there was a long-lost smell, and there was a bookmark in it. A few lines were written on the bookmark, and the fine print was beautiful, from the Book of Songs: The Moon is bright and people are beautiful. My figure is graceful and light, which makes me miss my heart. The signature is Han Feng.

I can't help laughing. How long has it been? I was in a trance yesterday. At the moment, the agarwood on the table is sweet and quiet, and the tea in the pot is warm and long. The autumn rain outside the window is even worse.

It is also late autumn. In the afternoon, the temperature plummeted, and I sat by the window of the classroom in the sunshine, still feeling cold, copying Ou Kai's exam homework at the end of my freshman year. Chinese characters have not been written well since childhood. In my first year in this university, I actually took a Chinese character class. Every day, I asked to write a piece of paper, draw pictures, look closely and write, and I submitted my most satisfactory one during the exam.

I can't read that word. Drawing and Chinese character lessons are very poor since childhood. I think I must be a person who has no talent for painting and writing. Junior high school and senior high school envy those who write well. I remember that I often borrow other people's notes for various reasons, just to see whose handwriting is good. Once I like this classmate's calligraphy, I will try to sit near this classmate. The people near Zhu Zhechi are black.

Somehow, I have a complex in my heart. This herringbone is not well written, and the facial features will be discounted no matter how good they look. So I have never met anyone with good handwriting and good looks.

It was cold at that time, and it was a self-study class. There are few people in the classroom, and my hands are getting stiff. Trembling sideways, there is no center, and the bugs are crawling. I threw my pen impatiently on the paper, and the rice paper was soaked with ink, as if mocking my clumsiness.

"Classmate, are you in Ou Yangxun? Do you still have homework in this big character? " A warm male voice sounded. I looked up, not like a freshman. I held some picture books in my hand and nodded and said, "I don't think I have the talent to write." I failed this course. "

"Not really, each has its own talents and needs to practice hard." His words are no different from the teacher's sermon, but every word is so ugly. I hope he can teach me a lesson for a while.

Thankfully, he sat in the seat next to me uninvited, spread out the rice paper, picked up the brush, dipped it in ink, pressed it one by one and turned around. Oh, my God, the whole process is like running water. On the side of the rice paper I just polluted, four words are written: indifferent and bright.

"This is Yu Shina's words. My grandfather taught me since I was a child, and I have been to Tang Kai. If you don't write, you will be beaten. "This classmate's handwriting is so beautiful that I am suffocating. In calligraphy class, the teacher talked about the history of calligraphy and knew Yu Shinan, but no one around him had written his words. Most of them copied the words of Ou Yangxun and Yan Zhenqing. But I only know one name, and no one can write fonts.

"Which department are you in, taking classes in this teaching building?" What is the occasion tonight? Seeing this lover, I asked like a sex maniac.

"Room 405 upstairs, Department of Foreign Languages, sophomore, Han Feng." He gave me all the information without reservation, so he was not afraid that I would harass him in the future? Or is he harassed a lot and doesn't care about me? At that time, I was shameless and secretly pleased, and at the same time, a sentence flashed in my mind, "I have never seen a good virtue as a lewd one." A few days ago, the teacher just explained it by persuasion, but now it's all turned a deaf ear, just chanting, "son Xi, son Xi, why are you such a good person?"

"What are you talking about?" Han Feng correctly left Mo Bao's "quiet and profound" on the paper. This time, I can see it's Yan Ti.

"No, I didn't say anything. I was just thinking, you are a person from the Foreign Languages Department who writes calligraphy so well, and you let me live in this Chinese department? It is simply unreasonable. " I mean, write a foreign language for me.

You know what I mean. He put down the brush, picked up the pen on the table and jumped a line of English. "This is the best time, this is the worst time." This is a sentence from A Tale of Two Cities. "This is the best time and the worst time.

I know nothing about English writing, but I can tell whether it looks good or not. Can this Han Feng student write such beautiful English? For the first time in my life, I worship a living person's words, so beautiful. Besides, he is good-looking.

Autumn is deep, and it will soon get dark. This classmate Han Feng told me many stories in the history of calligraphy, as well as the characteristics and copying essentials of each calligraphy style. I kept thinking that night, am I that good-looking? It's fascinating. He said so many words to me, but there was no one to talk to that day. By the way, he said a good teacher. Only the wind knows the answer.

I only remember that day, the conversation was very pleasant, the night outside the classroom was foggy, Kyushu was bright, and several families were happy and several were sad. I don't have any worries. The dreamer I have been longing for for for a long time is by my side at the moment. I pray that the moon will go slowly.

"It's cold, it's time to go back to the dormitory. If my dormitory passes by your girl, I'll see you off. " The handwriting is good, so considerate, who else can give up Han Feng? At that time, I was so firmly convinced.

The curved first quarter moon hangs high in the sky, and the brightness falls on Han Feng's shoulder. His hair shines with blurred light in the dim moonlight, and there is only me and his footsteps on the road, and there is silence around. If we go on like this, the road is endless. I think of the "Moonrise" in the recently read "Three Hundred Poems": the moonrise is not seen, and people are crowded. My gentle posture is soothing, which makes me miss and feel sad.

His figure is as sultry as moonlight, the autumn night is very cold, and the moonlight is sometimes awake and sometimes intoxicated. I know, I have fallen into his fluffy words like spring and summer. The way he writes seems careless, but in fact it is subtle and profound.

I haven't seen him for a long time after that day, only once, but Han Feng talked for a long time. "I am worried and worried." I feel the same way. It turns out that the first half of the poem is "the moon is bright and beautiful", and it is always waiting for the story or conclusion of the second half, otherwise it will not be circulated for thousands of years. I know my heart better than the ancients.

"You recently went to the wrong post. The final exam was copied from Ou Yangxun. What did you do with Yu Shinan's? Be careful that you have failed. " I am a minor in the same grade and often go to large classes together.

"I want to write who will write. Anyway, your writing is not good. " I am willful and angry, and I challenge half jokingly: "Write me a regular script if you have the ability."

"What's the matter, anyway? Senior two didn't have a formal calligraphy class, so he practiced by himself and found a teacher in his spare time. I can write regular script for you at any time. Why, if you write well, will you be my girlfriend? " On weekdays, I am silent and just bow my head to write, watch and read English classes. With so many words at the moment, how dare you accept my unreasonable challenge? At that moment, I looked ignorant, boys, don't guess girls' thoughts.

Don't, I will become your girlfriend because of your good handwriting, how is it possible? It doesn't take a year or two to write a good hand. Do you really need to write a dozen buckets of water?

I didn't know Zixiu had been posting, but I remember many people posted until their senior year. I have no intention of writing calligraphy. I had no intention of writing before I met Han Feng, and I didn't have the courage to go to 405 to find him. That day was amazing. In retrospect, I always thought it was a dream.

I'm afraid I won't find Han Feng. What if he lied to me? I am afraid that I will be a stranger when I meet him. I will ask, "Classmate, have we met?" Then my heart won't be broken. It is better to have a complete dream like this. Beauty is not broken.

It was in the second half of my sophomore year that I met Han Feng, a junior. In the corridor of the teaching building, I met.

"Hey, it's you. I didn't see you looking for me. How is the word practice? " He remembers me, but his eyes are full of polite greetings.

"Oh, my homework is tight and my handwriting is not good, so I won't practice." Stuttering, I was speechless. I just want to turn around and leave at once, but my feet don't live up to expectations.

"There is a calligraphy exhibition in the Art Building on Saturday morning, and I will write it on the spot. You come. " He sent out an invitation again.

"ok." I turned and ran away. Mouth muttering: don't go, don't go.

Damn it, on Saturday morning, I arrived as promised and brought some postcards, ready for Han Feng to write an inscription for me. I have a hunch that I will never see him again in my life.

"What are you going to write?" Han Feng looked at some of my postcards. I waited for him for a long time just now, and he came around and wrote. He can write several fonts, and the way he writes is still so beautiful. He kept writing, and I just watched.

"How about these poems? How about writing it on a postcard in small font? " I showed him the words I drew:

"When the bright moon is bright, when the people will be sad. My figure is graceful and light, which makes me miss my heart.

It is advisable to talk about drinking and grow old with your son. The harp is in the imperial court. Keep quiet. "

"I don't understand. Ok, write it to you. " He picked up the postcard and copied it with a pen. I saw him copy word for word,

He said he didn't know anything, maybe. Maybe he doesn't want to understand either.

Or, perhaps, he will never know that I treasure his words. Including the last time he left "indifferent and bright, quiet and far-reaching", I carefully cut it out and framed it for collection.

When she was promoted from junior year to senior year, Han Feng was admitted as a graduate student by Beijing Foreign Studies University. It is said that there is also her girlfriend, classmate and the girl who can translate at the same time in senior three.

In the senior year, Han Feng came to a lecture at the school to teach his younger brothers and sisters how to learn English well. I went to his lecture.

Almost all the PPT he uses is his handwritten outline, both in Chinese and English. That's great. My heart is pounding again, just enjoying it, without heartache.

On second thought, what do I like about him? I know nothing about him. I admire his talent, his beautiful Chinese and English calligraphy. I have been trapped in this beautiful illusion for several years, until this moment I saw that he was still shining.

I misunderstood love myself. I thought that a person's talent is all about love, but it is not. Just a part, or just one of the opportunities for love.

Until that day, Zixiu came into me and said, Look, my words are all small. Whose font do you think this is? "

I unfolded the paper he handed me, which was the second half of the ancient poem "Daughter Cry":

Yi Yan adds up, this is the right son. It is advisable to talk about drinking and grow old with your son. The harp is in the imperial court. Keep quiet.

This poem is like a little play of life, full of deep affection and tenderness, which is rare in the poem of 300 miles. Peace in poetry is the life that almost all women yearn for.

"I don't know who you have been copying, and I don't know if you wrote it in another way. Your lower case is a bit Yan Zhenqing. " I studied Zixiu's calligraphy.

"Mr.zhou, thank you for your compliment. I am lucky to get your permission. " Zixiu is polite.

"Don't flatter me. I haven't written anyone's handwriting well. I don't think I have the talent to write well. " I'm a little disappointed.

"Mr.zhou, don't sell yourself short. Really, you have first-class taste. You see, it is often amazing to know who has written Ou Yangxun and who has been to Liu Gongquan through one stroke. " Zixiu walked into me and praised me as an endorsement. I have never been praised so much since I was a child, and I am a little flattered.

"Well, it's all accidental, not worth mentioning." I waved my hand smartly.

"I know, you like Yu Shina, and have been watching your horoscope for several years. Do you think my handwriting is also very good? " Zi Xiu took out the look of "indifferent to Zhi Ming, quiet and far-reaching". Zixiu wrote quaint and solemn, and at that moment, his handwriting was really intoxicating.

Zixiu, like his words, is sincere and affectionate, giving me sincere love and trust. I really became his girlfriend after graduating from my senior year. A year later, he and I entered the marriage hall, and the harp was in the palace.

He knows that I often read the sentence "moonlight is sultry", but he can't recite the original poem, so he always simplifies it into four words and says, look at this sultry moonlight, isn't it in the sky? It can't reach the earth, nor can it capture your heart.

I often add that I like to watch the moonlight, accompany my son to repair you, and live a long life.

Zixiu perspective: it's better to wait for me at home in the moonlight outside the window.

From Han Feng's point of view, the moonlight of lotus elements is sultry, but it is always a secret that cannot be said.

365 days extreme day camp? The third day of writing training