Chapter 2 1

It was very bright there, and although it was winter, it didn't feel cold.Jing walked onto the stage under everyone's gaze.She was wearing a black mesh shawl-style sweater that hung wearily to the floor.The hair was in beautiful little curls, blown up high, revealing a smooth forehead.The corners of the eyes are bright water purple, and the lips are lightly polished, like freshly washed fruits that are still wet. "This is our young and beautiful female writer, Miss Jing." They introduced it like this.And she has gradually gotten used to it, and her ears are filled with compliments that are as crisp as fancy sugar wrappers.At this time, she will smile cooperatively.Someone in the audience

Surprised praise, because of her youth and radiance.They watched her all the time, and she was the focal point of all these lights, shining in shimmering envy. This is Jing's new book launch event.In the wide hall, reporters from newspapers and TV stations gathered.She stood in the middle of the front desk to accept their questions, with a huge promotional poster of the new book behind her.Her new books were piled up in stacks to her left and right.The cover was, as always, her favorite crimson cover, with a black scratch cut that made it look like a sexy lip.From where she was standing, she could only see the spine of the book, all of which were the four words "Pale Voice".Pale voice, pale voice, Jing discovered that these four words were read a lot, like a spell to confuse people's hearts.I don't know when she started, when she saw her books stacked together, she would feel palpitations.Perhaps they would collapse suddenly and fall to the ground, rotting into a heap of mud.She has nothing since then.

She knew that this was actually a persecutory delusion, and she never had a moment to feel good about what she had.She felt so insecure that it was unreasonable. No matter how much weight God put in her palm, everything was just like a hydrogen balloon that would fly away mercilessly if she accidentally let go of her hand when she was a teenager. She is also afraid of people.The fear of crowds is rooted in childhood and cannot go away.After a long time, when Jing thought of Cong Wei's seemingly rambling words again—"I saw many, many people sticking to my skin, but I couldn't grab them. If I did, blood would splatter"— —It was as if there were bugs gnawing on his body.

She has seen many occasions like today, and she looks calm and capable.But if her mind changes, Jing will suddenly feel that the crowd turns into a herd of beasts in an instant, rushing towards her, coming to tear her ears and poking her eyes.Today she felt particularly disturbed, perhaps because of the little plant that secretly took root in her belly.It stretches its limbs innocently and only cares about growth, but it doesn't know the dangers of the outside world.She is always worried that she will be hurt, and the sense of protection is so instinctive. She finally understands that when she is a mother one day, she will have the nature of a mother, and no one will be an exception.She kept asking the elf in her belly, is the light too bright here, are you afraid of so many people...

Just as she was immersed in such exchanges, the reporters' questions interrupted her: "In "The Pale Voice", you wrote about the growth process of a girl who is about your age, and she is also a girl who writes. Is this an autobiographical novel? Is the heroine in the story just you Own?" "Part of the heroine's experience is similar to mine." Jing replied lightly.She absolutely hates all peeking into the past.However, in Jing's subconscious, there is also some desire to confide, but the more she grows, the more lonely she becomes, and she cannot find a suitable listener.So subconsciously, she hopes that those things can peel off layer by layer like old scales, without their burden, she will become light and smooth, and the pain here is not hesitating.

"In your book, the heroine was like Cinderella when she was young. She suffered a lot. You portrayed her heart in detail. Is it because you had the same experience in your childhood?" Another one was wearing a red sweater. The female reporter stood up and asked again. "It doesn't matter whether I have experienced these things or not. But I believe that it is the dream of every girl with low self-esteem that Cinderella becomes a beautiful princess. I write this book and hope they can see the light and hope." She moved away a little stiffly Questions about herself—she was becoming more and more sensitive, questions that might not be too much for other writers—seemed to her like malicious voyeuristic mirrors.

"Your published books are loved by so many readers, and now you are the hottest newcomer in the literary world. Some people say that the honor you have won has far surpassed that of the female writer Cong Wei. What do you think?" "No one can replace Cong Wei." Jing said firmly. "So how do you feel about Ms. Cong Wei's misfortune?" Another reporter asked tentatively when someone mentioned Cong Wei. "I don't want to answer this question, I'm sorry." After Jing finished speaking, she walked off the stage coldly, and the press conference ended early.

After the press conference, Jing did not attend the luncheon.She hurried away alone.The editor sent her to the gate.He was a man in his thirties, smoking a pipe, and when he smiled, there was a small groove on his chin—the reason why she noticed this detail was because it was very similar to Shen He.He cares about Jingji, and even spoils him a little.So every time a new book is published, it is a happy thing for her.After reading the first draft, he will be very excited to tell Jing how he feels.However, many times, when talking about novels with him, Jing would suddenly lose his mind, and she remembered the scene of Shen He sitting opposite her discussing novels with her.Shen He did not compromise at all, and even insisted on certain opinions almost as an order.She also refused to give in.The two of them just sat in a public place like a coffee shop and quarreled loudly, attracting everyone around to watch.They looked like a pair of little lovers who were having a fight, and the things they were arguing seemed to be serious and important, but who would know that they were talking about things in the play?Jing still laughs when she thinks about it.They argued whether the hero should die in a plane crash or be killed by love, they argued why the heroine left the hero, and they even argued over the name of a little boy, as if they were naming their own child.

The editor followed Jing out, and Jing told him that there were other things to do in the afternoon, so he couldn't stay and have dinner with everyone.He then sent her to the door without asking any further questions.He knew nothing about her private life. No one knows her life.This is exactly what Jing wanted. Jing finally escaped from the noisy auditorium and walked in the December snowstorm in Beijing wearing a black coat.The scarf kept falling off, and she wrapped it around her neck again.Passing by the lonely square, she saw pigeons cooing in a small wooden house with a pointed roof.Snow blocked their windows, but the fresh cold air was the most stimulating and exciting, and all the pigeons gathered their heads by the window like marijuana smokers, twitching and puffing.Jing stopped and looked at them.She guessed that it was the little pigeon that had just become independent, and the one next to it, leaning on it closely and watching its movements carefully, should be its mother.Since she had a child in her womb, Jing can see some maternal nature in any ordinary things.Even before she was about to go to a European university to give lectures, she developed a strong attachment to this northern city—the lines of this city softened, and the thin winter rain and long-lasting fog seemed to be caressed by a mother’s hand .

Walking all the way from the auditorium just now, I was extremely careful.The snow melted and fell again, and the ground was deep and shallow, and places where people often walked would be very slippery.She walked slowly and desperately needed a line of trees that would enable her to hold on.Jing has never been so nervous because of walking, how afraid she is of falling, how afraid of hurting her in her belly.This is funny, Jing thought, why is she so scared, anyway, in a few hours, she will eventually have an operation to take her away completely.At that time, she will cut off her breath, cut off her nourishment, and will be cut off from her.On the way to send her to be tortured, Jing felt shameful by acting as if she cared so much about him and her.

She suddenly felt sad, and her chest felt tight again.Stopping in front of a tree, leaning over to vomit.She has become used to vomiting, and at the moment she even misses it.She will lose such behavioral traits.She buried her head in the raised collar for a long time and leaned against the tree.Someone passed by, came up to pat her, and asked if she needed help.She shook her head, affirming that she was fine.The passer-by walked away.Jing thought that this kind of strange care is also a right that only pregnant women can enjoy. She felt a flash of satisfaction, and then a burst of soreness. Jing leaned against the tree and looked at her watch. It was still early for the appointment with the doctor in the afternoon, but she didn't want to eat.Jing looked around and walked towards a takeaway window.She handed over a few coins for a cup of cold yogurt—she likes sour like all pregnant women.Jing sat on a park bench with a cold porcelain bottle in her hands.She suddenly wanted to talk to him so strongly.She seemed to see her little face as bright as a night pearl looking up in the dark womb.