Chapter One The weather in Shanghai has changed a lot recently. Yesterday I was still wearing a short-sleeved white T-shirt, and today I was wrapped up in a long black trench coat. I rode a bicycle through the sparsely populated campus of Shangda University. 90% of the students in Shangda University are from Shanghai. When the holidays come, the buildings are empty. Every time I feel that there is nothing better than here It's a more suitable place for ghost movies. It is raining today, and the rain is falling from the top of the head. It is not very heavy, but it makes people feel sad.

My hair was full of tiny raindrops. When I passed by the entrance of the supermarket, I saw my shadow in the French window, as if my hair was white, and I laughed for a moment. A long skid mark on the white concrete.rain.green tree.Me with messy hair on a bike.It feels like a beautiful MV. Chapter two I used to be afraid to hear the word old, and I have been afraid to hear it since junior high school.In fact, if you think about it carefully, the word old should not be in the mind of a fourteen or fifteen-year-old child. Children of this age should think of McDonald's and Coke, CD players and never-ending exams.

At that time, I was with little A, and the whole weight of my life seemed to be on him.Because to me he was an elder who taught me everything and pampered me in everything.I can sleep when I don’t want to go to class, lie on the wooden desk and bask in the sun, with the smell of wood in my nose.I always fell asleep very deeply, because I knew that Xiao A had notes, and I could borrow them just by talking about them. Xiao A and I once discussed the issue of aging. I said that I, as a person, will definitely age very early. When everyone is still wasting their youth, I have already stood in a vague and dense The posture, like the setting sun, sprays out little by little into the final color, and then fades away.

My keyboard is a notebook-style flat-panel keyboard, which is very pleasant to type on. But I still miss my computer in Sichuan. I figured its keyboard must have been covered with a soft layer of dust. When I said this, Xiao A and I were sitting on the overpass on the busiest street in my hometown, and we were sitting on the railing drinking Coke.I usually use the most cynical life attitude to live the most serious life, and rarely say such philosophical words, so I laughed after I finished speaking, and then continued to say like a ruffian, when human beings think, God laughs, I It's God, look how bright I smile.After speaking, he blew a whistle.

Little A didn't turn his head to look at me, but just smiled faintly, he always looks like this, seems to be forever peaceful, whether it's a flower blooming in front of him, or a city overturning in front of him. He said, I will not, I am a person who will never grow old. I laughed at that time, and I used my smile to express my disdain. Little A stretched out his hand to touch my hair, like touching a child. And today, three years later, in Shanghai, a strange city, in the feeling of nostalgia for little A who is far away in Japan every day, I finally understand what little A said, and what he said is true.

When I was nineteen years old, I had already learned to grow long and messy hair, to have my ears pierced, to have a commercial smile, to make girls happy, to smile at people I liked, whether I liked it or not. When other people smile, Xiao A still looks like that—wearing a clean white shirt, coarse trousers, cool hair, clear eyes, and a bright smile as if she was sixteen years old, talking a lot to the person she likes, Show no emotion to people you don't like. I wrote a paragraph, I said that I always looked back and stood still, and then time left me and ran forward vigorously.In fact, I wrote it wrong. In fact, the torrent of time rolled over and I was taken away.

Brought by time to flow all the way, through the four seasons, across the mountains and rivers, through the bright wind and the sad rain. But little A has always stayed in my seventeen years old, standing in my memory, standing in my thoughts, standing like a smiling cherry tree, always drifting away. third chapter I stayed up late last night and slept all day today. Text messages kept rushing into my phone. I picked them up and looked at them vaguely, then deleted them, and then continued to sleep wrapped in a quilt.I got a text message around noon and couldn't sleep anymore. The text message was sent by Weiwei, and the content was: SARS has been severe recently, don't die, live for me.

I suddenly remembered that I hadn't contacted her for several months.Cut off the phone, cut off text messages, we live alone in our own life circles, happy, sad, disappointed, depressed, and then wait for the hopeful tomorrow with joy. I asked Wei Wei, and I said that I hadn’t heard from you recently, and I thought you were dead. Wei Wei said, for a person like me, if everyone dies, I will live with ease. I held my phone and couldn't speak.The rain outside the window was still so heavy, I suddenly remembered a song that Wei Wei and I listened to in the third year of high school, singing in the song, it started to rain, who did the sky cry for?Who cried for whom?

I don't know if it's lack of sleep or what, I feel the air around me start to shake slightly, I feel like I'm on a ship, surrounded by waves, wind and rain, and the torrent of time. I forgot to reply to the text message, actually I don’t know how to reply, I don’t know how to tell Wei Wei, tell my heartache, tell me My miss, talk about my memories of the third year of high school over and over again. It's just that tomorrow will always come, the wind is already blowing, peach blossoms and poplar flowers in March.Zhang Yueran said that they rolled backwards into the tall grass in March together.

Chapter Four I like to stand on a hill, watching the whole city crawling under my feet, watching everyone's sorrows and joys mixed with the hustle and bustle of the world rushing up to the high sky, watching the sun shine straight down, hollowing out everyone's body and soul . At this time I think of all the mourning souls who sing on the clouds. Sichuan is a place with many mountains, Jiuzhaigou, Emei, Qingcheng.I like to walk with my friends on those green and cool stone roads and steps with big bags, sweat, coke, sleeping bags, cameras, DV, and our emotions and thoughts scattered in every corner.

As long as I remember, I will think of Xiao A and I sitting on the window sill wrapped in a blanket on the golden summit of Mount Emei and listening to the snowflakes falling on us when we were seventeen years old.I would think of Xiao A and I buying rough terracotta warriors and horses on the noisy roadside in Xi'an, which was like buying back a witness of time.I would think of Xiao A and I going to many remote villages, seeing the innocent faces and clean smiles of those country children, they avoided our cameras, they said it was a weird box, and people would be put in it. I will think of me and Xiao A in Stone City, I saw Xiao A standing on the bridge, the wind blowing through his hair like a poet who came slowly from the Song Dynasty. But now, little A is in Japan, walking in the wind of Waseda.He told me: One day, I will pack my bags again and set off with you to see the mountains I have never seen, walk the water I have never walked, squander the youth that has not been squandered, and commemorate the memories that can never be remembered. So I believed it, as if I believed in a myth, and the most worshipful thing about a myth is that it is unbelievable. And I am in Shanghai, the most prosperous city in the east of China, on this huge plain alluvial by the Yangtze River, I can no longer find cliffs, and I can’t find a place where I can command a high position.I once stood on the top floor of the Oriental Pearl Tower, looked out, but saw endless desires. There are no legends about the grass growing and the warbler flying in this city. It lives in reality forever, with fast drumbeats, hurried figures, numb eyes, false smiles, and I am being assimilated, how lucky it is. I shed tears of gratitude to God. Inside the tears is a small grave, where I buried my seventeen years old, my bicycle, my rock CD, my smile, and my summer days that never came back. chapter Five Let me make the text a little more elegant and light, and let us start to feel the youth that I once had and you are having. Chapter Six Little A and I liked to walk freely along the city in the summer when we were sixteen, because he had already left, and returning to Sichuan was like coming back to visit him.But I have been living in this place, watching my own time entangled with this city bit by bit, entwined with each other, and can no longer be separated. That summer, Xiao A and I stood on the side of the road, watching the wind running along the corner. In the evening, the two of us were wearing pure white T-shirts that cost more than 400 yuan each, sitting at a roadside stall full of oily smoke and eating beef noodles.The boss talked a lot to us very enthusiastically, and I also talked to him, while Xiao A just smiled beside him, with a very clear and beautiful smile, bright and extravagant like a child. Today, three years later, I can still clearly recall this scene. There were many cars and people around, and even though it was evening, the sun was still very hot. Then we'll go to the movies.Popcorn, cola, French fries, laughing out loud when watching a comedy, silent to each other when watching an art film, no one knows whose expression in the dark. At that time, I always had a fantasy. I wondered if it would be in the dark. When we laughed loudly, Little A’s face was full of sadness, and when we were silent, Little A’s face was full of sadness. But it is full of smiles, like datura flowers blooming in the dark. Later, I told little A about this imagination. That day we were still on the flyover, drinking Coke and whistling.Little A still reached out and touched my hair, he said, you are such a person, you think too much, so you are always unhappy.Do you know what God's greatest punishment to mankind is?It is to give him endless freedom of thought. The decadent neon lights of the city are reflected in Little A's light gray pupils, making him even more decadent.Can't see clearly, can't see clearly. Chapter VII Those things that we thought we would never forget, are forgotten by us in the process of our obsession. This sentence was written by Gu Xiang in a book called "Xi Tian", which is the story written.Many people told me to go and watch, so I laughed, and I wanted to show them "Western Paradise", But "Western Paradise" was kept at my home in Sichuan. I told Wei Wei this sentence on her nineteenth birthday.That time happened to be our first reunion after separation, in February 2003, the first winter vacation of my university. I came back from Shanghai, Xiaobei, Xiaojiezi and ABO came back from Chengdu, CKJ came back from Beijing, Weiwei came back from Chongqing.one A large group of people are still sitting in the hot pot restaurant as before, speaking loudly and punching violently.I don't know who is joking, saying that the star is still the same star, the moon is still the same moon, the person is still the same person, and the dog is still the same dog. After talking, everyone in the room laughed, and then suddenly fell silent, only the hot pot soup was still bubbling. Someone's tears fell into the oil dish, but I pretended not to see it. Wei Wei asked me, will we always remember the things we once remembered. Then I said to her the sentence in "Western Paradise".I don't know why I said that, I could have told her that we will be together forever, and when we are eighty years old, we will also go to the arcade to play KOF, if there are KOFs at that time.But I didn't, I spoke the most vicious words like the most vicious wizard. That night Wei Wei asked something that made me feel so painful, she lowered her head and asked me, is it because I have no roots?Why isn't there any place for me? chapter eight During that winter vacation, Wei Wei and I stood at the gate of our high school many times.When they were out of school, we just stood there quietly, watching countless children in school uniforms pass by us with smiling faces. I suddenly thought of the two angels with white wings in "Fantasy Eyes", they are always quiet when others can't see them Stand in the crowd and see who has a red star on his forehead, then that person is in love. The school is still the same, our youthful vigor is scattered in this place, scattered in the shade of the trees by the lake, scattered in the studio of the complex building, scattered in the piano room, scattered in the classroom in the middle of the third floor of the teaching building , scattered in the dilapidated badminton court, scattered in the crowded cafeteria, scattered in the canteen that has disappeared and moved, scattered in unknown corners, singing sad songs. I told Wei Wei that we had never seriously worn school uniforms before, we always kept avoiding the teacher’s inspection, and rampaged around the campus in clothes we thought looked good.I suddenly wanted to see myself wearing a school uniform, holding a racket, and sweat dripping from my short hair. The wind blew over suddenly, and Wei Wei's long hair and I fluttered in a mess.We've all had ions done to our hair, I feel like we're doing a shampoo ad.I told Wei Wei, and Wei Wei smiled.I laughed too. I looked at the strange and indifferent faces passing by me, but I couldn't see clearly anymore. I couldn't see whose face could be filled with the blooming flowers I wanted, and I wanted to see them forever. But I can see Wei Wei next to her, and I can see a swift river under her indifferent face.The river whimpers into a desolate violin sound, passing through the long and long lanes at dusk, passing through the slender green fields under the scorching sun, passing through the stone forests of the bustling city, passing through the backs of us running with schoolbags on our backs, passing through the scattered laughter on our bicycles, passing through The sorrows and joys of flickering, through the impermanence of the sun rising and the moon sinking, through the four seasons, through the birds, through our long hair, and then scattered messily at our feet Pieces fell all over the place. Who said that our hearts have already died at the most blooming moment.