Luoluo:

"Legend"

[1]

Which ones are fake.

Four seasons, rain and snow. The wrinkled sea is about to bloom. Whether it is a unicorn or a Taotie, it crosses the border and turns into an arrogant and messy cloud.

Don’t mention which ones are fake. The legend that happened in the dream desperately lists the beauty and illusion, and even the sentences are not organized. After waking up during the day, I forgot their specific meaning. It's like the lines distributed in the palm of your hand, so fragmented that you can't find a simple and complete one. All gypsy fortune tellers will lament them.

I know which ones are fake. Then I laugh a little when I think about it during the day. Romantic picture-style fantasies are always inexhaustible for girls. If the prince's appearance still has thousands of handsome possibilities, the sea that will always bloom in nothingness will always look the same. The grand folds reveal its beauty, like a flower, its edges touch the universe.

I don’t know what I witnessed. After I woke up, a lot of words flowed through my heart. Including descriptions and statements, even parallelism and question marks, it's like an ignorant soul has found a body and wants to retain all the last memories of its previous life, but still can't figure out a complete meaning. Only messy fragments flashed back in front of my eyes. The four seasons are connected together. Rain and snow, the sky and the earth are pure white as before. The sea wrinkled. Because of the wind. Qilin or Taotie, is it Qilin or Taotie? What is the relationship between them?

Until I wake up. The sky was dim and white, blending with the gray of last night. The breathing of father and mother quietly came in through the crack of the door - like pulling a string, one sound was light, one was heavy, one was light, and then there was a pause, and it was father rubbing his hands. nose.

Those are not fake, I know. Turning over, there is a certain area of ??the bamboo mat that has not been occupied by body temperature, and there is a cold that I cannot resist. There were footsteps on the stairs. Heading towards daylight.

The reality that half of the world continues to be decadent after waking up. Bicycles weave space across the street, buses scurry. Ballpoint pens were used to write about major changes that occurred in BC. The fruit vendor stopped the person and said, "Then I'll sell it to you, and I'll be in trouble." In a blind corner where the sun cannot penetrate, there is a female cat who is having difficulty giving birth. She squints her eyes tightly and her lower body occasionally twitches.

The other half still has an eternal legend. There is no need to judge whether it is true or false in my dream. Neither true nor false can define it. They multiply in the scroll, turning from a small ink dot into a complete story. The unicorn sleeping in the river valley, or the grumpy Taotie, stepped on the soft and silent footprints, and the fishy smell of animals was in their breath. Later, plantains paved the way, hyacinths made a sound, and the huge sea bloomed with pure blue petals.

That is the most beautiful and best blue I have ever seen.

See it so clearly when I close my eyes.

[2]

When I opened my eyes, it was seven o'clock in the morning on June 13, 2004. The body crawling out of the dream was like stepping out of a swimming pool. For a moment, it felt unprecedented gravity and its body was heavy.

Another concrete dream. It happens every day though. Like symptoms of youth. There is also the inexplicable leisure, the boredom of doing nothing, and the carefully crafted sadness.

Children have to create new candies every day, but not all of them are sweet. Most of it is sour and bitter. As if asking for trouble.

You have to admit that many things are just asking for trouble. There is a large blank space in the sensitive age. If you run, laugh, and praise all things in the world every day, your nerves will become false plastic texture. And it should be a slender and warm meridians, communicating all our perceptions like a bus network. That's why in that spare time, I become a villain who is busy fantasizing and indulging in sadness.

Fantasy about your own legendary story, while sadness captures the city without defenders day after day.

There is no way to talk about these very private things with anyone, they are all kept secret in my heart. Taking advantage of the darkness, they flourish even more. As time went by, their moss marks climbed up on the south wall. Large areas of moist dark green remind us that there is always some invisible sunlight. Don't go see the sun.

So I never talked about these things with my friends. Once the secret is revealed, it becomes an impartial joke. There is such a little monster in my body. When I go out to meet people, I am afraid that its claws will hurt innocent people.

When I chat with my friends on weekdays, I only talk about idols’ new scandals, the breakfast porridge launched by KFC, the shortcut to the cinema, and the soy sauce stains on the teacher’s shoulders, thinking they are nothing. The result of using Xinbilang. In fact, we don’t know whether Bilang can wash away all stains as advertised. Just chatting, those ordinary topics can change its appearance again and again according to the circumstances like a chameleon.

There are constant scandals, constant new products, and multiple-perspective stories constantly being performed under the bright sun. The smell of washing powder on his body is real and warm, floating among the dispensable smells.

A very concrete youth, projected into a little bit of artificiality and countless realities. Time quietly appears above. I often see his face from the same angle. Eyebrows, eyes, nose. The wall behind is as white as powder. Then the person appears smooth and clean, like an image on a flat surface. All colors are reversed on the negative before it is developed. His hair turned white, his eyes glowed white, his lips were gray-green, and the world became pitch black.

My nerves tightened slowly and powerfully here, spreading from all the tiny branches to the heart. It is like a moth trapped in a cocoon that suddenly gains the power to break out of its shell.

Fly out and pick up the fire of destruction. Then he was thrown into the deep sea and became part of the legend.

Rough, soft, a sea of ??sadness accumulated by moths.

[3]

Somehow I just think of the sea easily. When the day came to an end, the earth submerged into the wilderness, and there was still a sea, which became the final container to hold all the legends.

The third eye of the world is bluely closed in the universe.

Is it because before birth, the soul was soaked in the mother’s sea for a long time? Those are the only remaining ambiguities left in the cerebral cortex. At present, it is as vague and ethereal as a fantasy. The sky of night, the sea of ??day, the soul gathers from all directions, completes a perfect life, and emerges in the sea of ??amniotic fluid. Like dimples. The whole world is smiling.

The mother's myth reaches its climax here. She plays Nuwa, who creates a beloved little man from water and mud. Then she will lose all her magical power and become a hard-working and ordinary woman who maintains all the meaning of life, big or small. I'm in the big one, maybe the biggest one.

I saw my mother turning around and washing dishes in the kitchen at night. She poured dishwashing liquid into the water while talking. Bubbles, water flow, nimble fingers, narrow sink.

She has long forgotten that in her ancient myth, foam, water flow, and nimble fingers all happened calmly in the huge ocean. Then I will remember it for her, and see it blooming like a flower every night, with gentle folds.

[4]

Legendary.

I am a person who keeps unicorns and gluttons in my heart, holds water all over the world, and has empty hands.

These are all true.

"Life Has Come to Summer"

Shrinking my life to the final destination is a green summer.

I woke up after the typhoon warning sounded. When I opened my eyes, I saw a sky that was damaged by the heavy rain, with cotton-like patches exposed in the cracked areas. Under people's feet are plain clothes full of holes, only in the corners they dare not enter.

In the summer I put the worms out of my slippers and went from Fujian South Road to the market on Renmin Road to buy a lot of grapes. On the way back, there will be water trucks and buses chugging by.

After all the time spent on exams and copying homework for the impulsive youth, the long seventy-day vacation became extremely swollen in the summer. Sometimes it leaked and I saw it. People on the road were caught in the sudden heavy rain and ran away. A row of out-of-shaped shoes was exposed under the eaves of the cloth shop, which made me laugh.

After that summer, people all remembered the cartoon broadcast on the TV station, called "Slam Dunk". The newspaper said that the ratings even exceeded the shocking surprise of the news. When I was going upstairs, a boy of the same age downstairs came back from buying soy sauce. When I turned the corner, I saw his slightly curly hair and long shadow. This made me suddenly shy. I thought I should not be dressed casually at that time. pajama pants.

At 6 o'clock, the opening song of "Slam Dunk" was played at his house and mine at the same time. I put my ear to the floor and could faintly hear him and his mother talking. I ate so many grapes that they always wanted to rush out of my throat.

Sitting on a slightly warm wooden stool, you can see the lonely flowing clouds and tireless smoke and dust in summer flying arrogantly through the skylight.

In this way, I watched the entire cartoon this summer, ate countless fruits, and said forty or fifty words to the boy downstairs. I guess I like him.

Secret love is as complete and tough as life, and after peeling off the outer skin, the inner layer will be exposed that will dry quickly. In our free days when we sleep in any position without having nightmares, we live a decent life without worrying that the rooster of desire will crow for reality at the top of the fairy tale. Just when I cherished such a work-free gray-blue midfield, Putao had already exited the stage, the animation was not broadcast again, someone moved, and the window opened on the other side of the river. But it is this fulfilling and green life that allows me to safely recall the true and beautiful sounds of five years ago in deeper seasons. He called my name, using just a few seconds in the summer, before everything could mature.

My life is magnified to the last edge, like clusters of grapes of joy, one by one screaming to resist the approaching autumn.

"Time Machine"

Sometimes I feel that maybe because of the long wires above my head, the distance between me and the sky has become closer. It seems like you can reach out and touch tomorrow.

The most ambitious project when I was a child was to choose the covers for each new textbook. I would be excited about this for a whole day, sitting on the floor cutting out last year's calendar, and very shyly turning the female model's breasts over and wrapping them inside. Then I waited for my father to come back and write "Chinese" and "Mathematics" on each of my books. My mother's handwriting was not as beautiful as my father's, so I didn't want her to write.

When I was a kid, I was chasing and fighting with a boy. When he was lying on the window and about to jump in, I closed the window hard. As a result, his little finger was pinched. The teacher complained directly to his mother's office, and her mother almost stopped him. I cursed to death. From then on, I learned that my little finger is something that can be crushed. Boys are really useless.

When I was learning to ride a bicycle as a child, I killed a little hen. In fact, the bike fell to the ground when it and I were frightened by each other, and I stepped on it half to death. Later, my father asked the family to buy the chicken and eat it. Dad is so kind, but it’s a pity that I didn’t dare to eat the chicken.

When I was a child, I sat in the third row from the bottom. My eyesight was so good that I could see a yellow caterpillar on the metasequoia outside the classroom. After class, I went to confirm with my classmates. It turned out to be a small piece of rotten cloth. But why is there cloth there? Maybe it's a caterpillar's clothes.

When I was a child, my parents often went on business trips together, and my life at home was like Cleopatra. Although I didn’t have any male favorites, I could watch TV at 12 o’clock as a primary school student, and even lie in bed Eating and reading in bed. One time my mother came back and scolded me because she found the crumbs of sesame cake that I hadn't cleaned up and simulated my living alone. What hurts me the most is that they didn't believe my defense that I never did it.

When I was a child, I had many cats. My favorite was a yellow and white one. It would jump on the bed at 6 o'clock every morning to wake me up, and then I would hug it and kiss it on the mouth. Non-stop. Then one day I discovered that this guy had eaten a rat. I feel sick when I think back to it...but I still like it very much, but it suddenly disappeared one day. When I went home in May last year and talked about this guy with my parents, they actually laughed and said that my dad had ridden it for two hours and threw it to a distant park. An adult can turn a cruel thing into a joke. And I at least discovered that I still have the same childish disgust as I did ten years ago.

When I was a child, I was afraid of my extremely short lifeline for a long time. I used a ballpoint pen to draw it all the way to my wrist, and insisted that I could not wash my hands. Whether this is successful or not is uncertain, and I have long been afraid of being an old woman...

The body was folded and opened, from the initial 64 to 32 to 16, I came into contact with more and more A world full of people, but finally far away from the yellowed soy sauce stains in my childhood. It's hard to clean, but it fades and deteriorates too easily. As I walked step by step towards the future of that short-lived old woman, I occasionally felt that my childhood self was still behind me. It was like the sky being brought closer by the wires above my head, and it still missed me like this.

Is the teacher who spit on my face still there now?

Guo Jingming's:

"Bounded by Night"

01

When the sun rises in the east, the mist is illuminated by the light. As they dispersed, the quiet street began to be filled with noisy crowds. A shopkeeper not far away opened the lid of the boiling pot and poured the first handful of ramen in the morning into the water.

The security guard downstairs wore a clean uniform and said, "Good morning" to everyone he saw.

The sound of running water. Whistle. Trumpets. The sound of a mother asking her sleeping child to get up for the third time.

The world slowly wakes up.

02

For a period of time, I was so busy at work that it consumed almost the entire day, so I had to stay up late at night to write all the manuscripts and novels. At first it lasted until one o'clock in the morning, then it became two o'clock, then three o'clock, and finally it evolved into falling asleep wrapped in a quilt under the completely bright light in winter (six-thirty?).

It was already three o'clock in the afternoon when I woke up.

Brush your teeth, take a shower, and eat something from the refrigerator.

Go to work in the company afterwards.

The security guard in the lobby of the office building sometimes says good afternoon to me.

Not long after I sat down and turned on the computer, people from the company were leaving get off work one after another. They said to me, Xiaosi, I have to leave first.

Soon, I was the only one left in the company, or one or two people who also needed to work overtime.

Then it slowly transitioned into night.

To say it is slowly is not accurate.

It should be said, "Then it was dark all of a sudden."

03

I wanted to end this life of reverse day and night, so I went to bed early. But I couldn't sleep. After a while, I got up and read a book.

The curtains that were not tightly drawn revealed a small window, and looking out were scattered lights that had not been extinguished.

The sound of flipping through books sounded particularly clear in the silent night.

I finished reading the book at two o'clock. At the end, I was touched by the choked sentence of the male protagonist, "Then, I'll leave first?" I got up, put on a sweater, turned on the TV and prepared to play Wii for a while. After playing for a while, I lost interest, so I turned on the shower head and prepared to take a shower. Then I found that the water heater had no battery and could not ignite.

So I put on my pants and a coat, grabbed my keys, and went out to buy batteries.

In such a long dark night, everything seems particularly grand. We have such a long period of time that we need to spend alone, one person turns on the air conditioner because of the cold, one person sighs after reading a book, one person changes the TV channel from 1 to 39, one person watches MSN The portrait is almost entirely black and white, showing a man wrapping up his coat and going out to buy batteries.

Every one of us has imagined how to spend a long time.

Whether it’s to travel to Europe or to stay at home and read the numerous books piled on the bookshelves.

These times seem to be a whole century away, and the dust in the sky falls gently to the ground before it can fly to us. It has become a Milky Way with floating dust spread out in the distance from us.

We go slowly and grow old slowly.

04

In our long youth, our world has been soaked in such light-filled days.

We woke up in the gray-blue morning. Everyone was crowded and sleepy. We picked up toothbrushes and cups and walked to the water room at the end of the dormitory corridor. The sound of rushing water washed away the sky and brightened it up. Wiping off the toothpaste foam from the corner of his mouth, he raised his head and could already clearly see the sparrows on the branches outside the window.

The dormitory administrator will kick everyone out of the dormitory before 7 o'clock and go to the classroom for morning self-study. Everyone packed their schoolbags, stuffed uneaten steamed buns or bread into plastic bags, and followed the flow of people to start their day's homework.

Morning, noon, afternoon, evening.

The chalk writing on the blackboard changed one version after another. The person who had no time to copy sighed, threw the pen on the table, lay down, buried his face in his arms, and twitched slightly. I don't know if I shed any tears.

We are far from darkness, we are far from late night.

Even cheap instant coffee can’t keep us going deeper into the night. There is always a strong and irresistible exhaustion that makes us reluctantly throw away the test paper and fall into the warm bed.

We seem to be wrapped in a transparent medium, spending our youth simply and chaotically.

We fell asleep quietly in the dark night.

The world is far away from us. The harm is far away from us.

05

Downstairs in Lawson, there are only two AA batteries we need left, and I need four. The kind aunt suggested that I not buy it and go to other convenience stores to buy the same brand of four-cell batteries, otherwise the effect of mixing batteries from different brands would not be good.

06

When did you start to feel that life is infinitely long, but it cannot withstand the consumption?

07

If I could go back again——

Seventeen years old, eighteen years old, nineteen years old. In the infinitely beautiful age, time seems to be sprinkled with glitter, and it looks dazzling no matter where it is spread. In those three years, my life was stretched infinitely, and I staggered through a time that could never be regained.

If you look at it again now, the fatigue that was weighed down by the test papers and the heartache by the results will definitely not be considered as the dark part of life. Compared with the things we are facing now , they are clean, transparent and shiny.

Although when we were that age, they were considered to be the heaviest topics in life.

I always had this idea when I was young, and then, as I grew up, I was laughed at beyond recognition.

I have dreamed of going back to the past countless times. I have dreamed of sitting on campus taking exams countless times.

The sunlight outside the window was so bright that it shone slantly on the smooth tabletop, reflecting golden fragments.

Someone used a mirror at the back of the classroom to reflect the light spots on the back of the teacher's head, and the classroom was filled with whispers and laughter. It was pressed in the throat and itched uncomfortably.

In the empty playground, the scorching sun stirs up the floating clouds in the sky. They record the young people under it every day, their young appearance, their healthy lives, their beauty and kindness, in the future. The years are full of ups and downs.

So sadness turned into an afternoon thunderstorm.

Some boys were practicing shooting on the wet basketball court.

Outside the barbed wire fence not far away, the girl squeezed the mineral water bottle in her hand.

And if you look back on the past, those beautiful, warm, kind and cherished pasts are all too beautiful, but in the current temperature, they appear fragile and "too beautiful", because you know They will no longer exist in the coming storm, so their eyes are moist.

It is like the world that is slowly seeped in by the ink-like darkness after the sunset disappears in the evening.

It was shrouded and the temperature slowly disappeared.

08

And the night also has its own writing because of its differences.

When our youth is placed in a tall ivory tower, we hide in the warm quilt and consume the nutrients that youth has given us. The night cannot invade, and it is isolated from the cold by the warmth of the quilt. outside.

Countless stories have been read by us under the light of flashlight. The haziness of youth or the sadness of love penetrates into our hearts bit by bit.

And when the good years passed, the eggshell was gently cracked by a hand on the side of the bowl, and the complete package was torn open by a huge force. A corner of the pocket was ripped open, and we began to get used to facing the darkness. qualities, those free darkness and constant cold. They float in the air, find out when we are weak and vulnerable, and quietly penetrate into our open pores.

People hurried down the street with indifferent faces, leaving their lonely shadows to the earth, the dead leaves falling from the sycamore trees, and the white flowers floating close to the ground in the middle of the night. fog.

There are only traffic lights on empty streets, which frequently change colors at intersections without vehicles or pedestrians.

09

After walking two streets, I bought the battery I wanted at Haode.

When I walked out of the door, the electronic sensor made a ding-dong sound, and then a dull electronic voice said: "Welcome to visit next time."

On the way back, I saw the hostess of the fruit stall just about to pull down the rolling shutter door. When she saw me, she nodded slightly to me. Then he turned around and closed the door. She raised her hand and turned off the yellow light bulb above her head, and a short section of the road suddenly became dark.

Only the middle-aged man in front of the stove still squinted his eyes and listened to the songs on the radio. Behind him were empty plastic tables and seats. Only the crackling sound of the fire echoed the boiling water in the pot.

I have not passed through their lives.

I just saw their half-warm, half-cold existence at the border of night.

"The Last Chapter of the Night"

01 Pills

When I catch a cold, I feel like the weight of Shanghai is pressing down on me. My headache felt like it was going to explode with a bang. I go to work every day with a head like a time bomb. I often feel like there is a countdown timer in my body, ticking, and then the clockwork gets tighter and tighter, and I don’t know when it will suddenly explode.

When I have a cold, I also feel like all the water pipes in Shanghai are inserted into my body, and then someone turns on the faucet, and I can’t stop my nose and tears. I felt like a moving leaky pipe system, walking back and forth in the office building, making people look surprised when they saw me.

And these are all controllable. After I swallowed the two-color pill that was repeatedly said to be effective in the advertisement, it seemed that the whole world was restored to its original state. The only thing is that after taking medicine, I feel very sleepy, so walking feels like walking on cotton.

But when will pills that can control emotions be invented? I sat on the sofa, holding a steaming glass of water in a daze. If one day, I can swallow a "don't miss you" pill in a boring party without you; if one day, I can swallow a "don't cry" pill when I am sad; If one day, I can swallow a "forget you" pill after you leave me; if one day, I am hit by a car like those in all the crappy TV dramas, I will definitely remember it when I am sane.

When I was in bed, I swallowed a "remember you" pill so that when I woke up, I wouldn't face you with tears streaming down my face by the bed and say the old-fashioned "you are" on TV. Who" dialogue.

Is there such a pill? I really want to call Doraemon.

02 Sadness and Sadness

I don’t know if during translation, the two words sadness and sadness are uniformly translated as sadness.

There are always such words in Chinese that make people sigh. Just like the happiness and joy I once had. Must everything be happy?

Are happy people necessarily happy people?

Which one is more pitiable, the sad person or the sad person?

When you were twelve years old, you picked up small translucent fish from the river and put them into a big bowl, only to find that they were all dead the next day. You cried when your mother poured the fish into the toilet. Are you sad or sad?

At the age of fourteen, you began to notice a boy with black hair. His voice became a little funny and hoarse during adolescence. But when he runs and shoots, you still think he is so handsome. That day you saw him going home with a girl, and he bought her a popsicle. You followed them for two blocks at a distance, and then you realized you were lost. At that time, were you sad?

At the age of seventeen, you walked out of school on a lonely afternoon. The sunset was slowly setting in front of you, and the light drew an even lonelier shadow behind you. You lower your head. At that moment, did the empty campus make you feel sad or sad?

At the age of nineteen, I bid farewell to my youthful days. It seems that if you go one unit of time forward, you can no longer call yourself a teenager. What wish did you make in front of the slightly flickering candle? If you have made that wish from the age of sixteen to the age of nineteen and it still hasn't come true, then is it still too late before you turn twenty? You listened to the countdown of time and your eyes slowly turned red. Is it sad?

Twenty-four years old, this is the first time I remember my birth year. I completely forgot what it was like last year. Now, when your mother gives you red underwear, you will scream that I don’t want to wear it.

But I will also think about whether I should buy one when no one is around. There is a wedding invitation from your classmate on the table, with red cardboard and golden words, but now you are still shopping alone, drinking tea and watching TV. How do you feel?

03 Night Self-Study

This kind of night will start from the third grade of junior high school.

On the first day, you were all very excited and even secretly put snacks and drinks in your schoolbags. It feels cool to be reading when it gets dark.

When the incandescent lights above your heads flashed and then all lit up, when you looked out the window you found it was pitch black, with only a circle of street lights on campus shining out.

You think this feels really good.

But then slowly, time and enthusiasm were consumed.

What remains is the tired aroma of coffee and the noise of chalk rubbing against the blackboard. The smell of test paper ink floated slowly and heavily in the air. You open the window and then close it again after a while. The wind outside is still too cold.

You put down the pen in your hand and flexed your wrist. The history paper in front of me has already filled a whole page. The pen in my hand was just bought from the small shop at the school gate yesterday, and now one-third of the ink has been used. The store just released Jay Chou's "Still Fantasy" yesterday. You stood in front of the poster in a daze for a while, and then walked away laughing.

You raised your head and looked out the window at the bottomless night. Camphor trees are connected one after another, filling all the gaps in the sky with their lush leaves. The night swallows up the light and the green that will never disappear. Only the sound of wind blowing among the treetops was left, sounding far away and sharply in the deepest part of the campus. Swish, swish, swish. In fact, it is no different from the quiet sound of writing in the classroom. You raised your hand to rub your sore eyes and found that your hands were wet with water. You sniffed and turned the history paper to a new side. And the boy from the first-grade physical education department under the street lamp did not come to play ball tonight.

When the bell rang, there was an echo in the campus. The trees were blown by the wind, and their shadows rolled in waves towards the bedroom in the darkness. You pack up the unfinished exercises and thick reference books alone. You put your schoolbag on your back and walk out of the teaching building. The walk back to the dormitory from the classroom was eerily quiet. The street lamp casts a dim light at a very high place. Two girls were walking in front, talking quietly. Three boys were walking behind, with balls at their feet. Later, they all walked back, and you slowly stopped on the road lined with tall camphor trees on both sides. You raised your head

and the street light flickered at that moment. You suddenly remember that three years have passed since then. From the third grade of junior high school until now. A thousand nights have passed. And the remaining dozens of nights will pass like this

. You hugged the book in your hand tightly and heard all kinds of sounds in the empty campus. They have appeared before and will surely disappear one day.

The sound swallowed up by one thousand and ninety-five nights, rustled at the end of the night.