Chapter 86 Chapter 86

In the past few days, they seem to have forgotten the painter surnamed Cen.It's as if they gradually forgot the purpose of their coming here.They were indeed busy with their creations.Of course, painters should also be busy with their own work. If they are busy with their own work, they will naturally forget about it.I will forget myself when I am busy, let alone others.This is also an excusable thing.Under the excusable fact, when the painter appeared at the door of the room, they almost shocked the two of them.The painter's complexion was not very good, and he looked very haggard.Zhang Yu felt that their half-opened door was almost knocked open by him, and he felt that the door frame supported the painter's body in time.The painter is now leaning against the door frame, his face rounded by his shortening hair.

They stared at him for a while before they heard the painter's soft voice. I, I just wanted to come over and talk—talk, talk— There was an imperceptible hint of panic in his voice. Afterwards, they had to put down what they were doing. The professor would have paid close attention to the last part, but Zhang Yu had almost nothing to do. If there was anything to do, he was going to prepare footwashing water for the professor and then serve him. go to bed.Only after that will he find a gap in time, and a proper and comfortable position, and reunite with those people who are walking on the road of words.He no longer expressed surprise at the painter's arrival, but a similar warmth stored in his heart.Once upon a time, he even came to chatter with others.The lines on the bed sheet seemed very messy, he straightened the bed sheet, and then Zhang Yu tugged the artist's arm, motioning him to sit down and talk.Zhang Yu felt that this was done very well.The professor sat on the chair and turned around to see that Zhang Yu was pushing the painter to sit on the edge of the bed. The professor stared at the painter's face.Afterwards, he told Zhang Yu that the moment he turned around to look at him, what he saw was definitely a stranger's face.The shadow of the painter with pigtails couldn't be superimposed on him.He finally sighed to Zhang Yu, it's better to keep that braid, that's what a painter looks like.Zhang Yu smiled at the time, how solid and sturdy a person's inherent consciousness is.

In fact, Zhang Yu also felt the same way.You know, Zhang Yu even felt that the artist's artistic temperament was entirely due to that braid and the spots of oil paint on the braid.And now, on the edge of their bed sat a stranger.A stranger with normal short hair, black stubble showing white hair roots. Soon, though, they emerge from their trance, smiling. Painter Cen burst into tears suddenly, and the two of them were at a loss for what to do. This came too suddenly, the painter's voice seemed to be a long-stored pool gate, and the heart never stopped tumbling for a moment, and now it seems that there is a missing mouth and it is pouring out suddenly.The painter's cry seemed loud, and his voice ran to the corridor, colliding with the mottled wall.The professor was still sitting on the chair, his face and hands resting in the air were a little embarrassed.He pointed with his finger, and Zhang Yu immediately closed the door.

The painter's head was lowered, his hands were inserted into his hair, and tears flowed from his fingers.Zhang Yu stood beside him, rubbing his hands.The professor was still sitting on the chair, his hands still hanging in the air, as if he was about to say something.Gradually, the galloping sobs gradually subsided.At this time, the artist put his hands into the hair and held his chin.My throat is still choking. Zhang Yu saw the painter's head bouncing on his palm.Zhang Yu wanted to laugh like this, but he held back. Resisting it, Zhang Yu still rubbed his hands, because the painter's head slowly stopped beating, and he will face a new problem.What problems will the painter give them?Never surprise them again.Zhang Yu stared at the painter, his eyes fell on his fingers, which still had crystal tears.The professor's hand was still hanging in the air, he moved, and the chair rang.It seems that it is also adjusting the body and mind to prepare to bear, love, hate, comfort, or go to the silent situation with the professor.

However, the painter wiped his face with both hands suddenly, his nose twitched on the facial features, and some remaining grief seemed to be sucked back into his stomach.He pursed his lips and said, it's all right.All right.It's all right now. He then raised his head and glanced at the fingers in the air, the professor's fingers were constantly flicking. Yes.never mind.The painter added again. This time the painter stayed in their narrow room for a long time, more than any other time.He watched Zhang Yu prepare the footwashing water for the professor, and saw the professor's bamboo shoot-shaped white feet sinking into the water.The professor didn't leave until he sat down under the quilt and chatted for a while.This was actually the last time the painter was in the same room with them.When he finally left, he was full of thanks to them.He praised Zhang Yu's carefulness more than once. Before leaving and closing the door, he stretched out his head and said to the professor sitting under the quilt, you are so lucky.His tone seemed to be Zhang Yucheng's son.Obviously, his significance has completely surpassed the concept of ordinary students.Zhang Yu is actually well aware of this.

Why is the painter crying?Zhang Yu didn't understand the general idea until later. In his later consciousness, he believed that a person's willpower is sometimes as strong as a wall, and sometimes as flimsy as paper.There is no absolute boundary between the two.They chatted carefully that night from beginning to end to avoid this question, as if they were avoiding a blooming mine. This feeling is one of the feelings that Zhang Yu has never forgotten.