Dripping ink, recounting a beautiful relationship; meet again, everything is so unimaginable full of emotion, smooth pen movement; quietly enjoy reading, delicate and atmospheric, mellow and moist.
The night came as expected. Unlike last night, it came with the sound of rain.
When the affectionate raindrops dripped on the banana leaves outside the window, I was lying lazily on the couch, thinking about the embarrassing and heart-wrenching scene when I took the bus after work in the evening, and then carefully flipped through the past events that were wet by Rain Water in my mind. This exquisite dripping sound is like an ambiguous dream that makes people sentimentally attached and frustrated. Pillowed with the graceful sound of rain and smelling the fragrance of the grass on the lawn outside the window, I seemed to see your flowery smile, clear eyes and fluffy eyelashes under the red umbrella.
I still remember that in our youthful years, we shared an umbrella and carried us on the campus road after the new rain. At that time, the ground was covered with yellow leaves of wet sycamore. You say that you like the yellow leaf for no reason, and you also say that the hardship of her life has fulfilled her mission of being full of green. Now that she is withered and tired, she needs to lie quietly on the ground and have a good sleep. She needs the moisture of raindrops and the soothing sound of rain most at this time. When you say this, I am looking at your clear eyes with a moving face. I said, when one day you are as yellow as this leaf and need to be moisturized and soothed, I am willing to turn myself into rain.
During the two years of love, whenever we fell in love with each other in the evening after the rain, we would take a stroll along the familiar road, and then discuss the experience of the writing class while bathing in the freshness and emptiness after the rain. When I asked you why you took Yuhua as your pseudonym, you smiled and said that you were born on a rainy morning and like rain. You also said that more importantly, the rain flowers have feathered elegance and leisurely.
At that time, it was literature that brought us together, but I don't deny that you made me like the rain.
Spiritually, you are rich, but materially, you are poor. You are always light, neither humble nor arrogant, calm and open-minded in the face of life, and we are happy together in peace, but with your father's accidental death, it is not long before you have to drop out of school and go home. The sickness of your mother, the school expenses of your two younger brothers, and the trivialities of the land at home make you exhausted. In that year, we wrote letters without interruption. You say that the situation at home makes the dream in your heart more lost, and you want to give up the beautiful dream at the bottom of your heart. I eagerly encourage you to face life strongly, fight against fate, and realize your dreams with the pen in your hand. However, you have not been able to resist the hardship and tiredness after all.
Later, a letter full of blood and tears was shaken by my hands: please forgive me, my dear, I got married last week. The object is the son of a village head of a neighboring village. I haven't been able to tell you for a long time. I'm afraid you'll be sad. Forget me, if there is an afterlife, we must be together. After reading it, my eyes were blurred with tears for a moment, like a pain in my throat. It was not until later that I learned that it was my mother's illness and poor family circumstances that forced you to promise your mother to find someone nearby to take care of her family and brothers. Looking at the handwriting on the letter paper that was wet with tears, I felt more and more heart-wrenching pain. This indescribable heart-wrenching has happened again 20 years later.
Recalling the rainy evening, you supported your sick husband in one hand and an oxygen bag in the other, followed by two and a half children on the bus, constantly looking into the car to see if there were any seats available. The strange crowd can't cover your anxious eyes. I was surprised when I inadvertently collided with your clear eyes. Twenty years of smoke and clouds did not cover my eyes, twenty years of wind and rain changes, or let me recognize you at a glance. What worries me is that twenty years of wind and frost have tortured you so old! He was forty-two or three years old, but his temples were covered with frost. In front of you, you are as lovely as a thin yellow leaf. I got up and offered my seat to your husband, and you thanked me mechanically. In this crowded carriage, you look at me awkwardly and I look at you awkwardly. You kept pounding on the back of your coughing husband, and the heart-wrenching pain forced me to look out of the window. This is really afraid to meet and look forward to seeing each other, meet and can not recognize each other, the taste of which goes without saying.
Bumping in the crowded carriage, my ear was as silent as death. In this world, I originally did not believe in fate and karma, but this evening's casual encounter forced me to be a little more afraid and pious of fate and karma. Until today, I suddenly realized that for the past 20 years, I have been wandering and trapped in a trap conspired by fate and karma. Today's scene has to make me feel even more deeply. I looked at you, your husband and your children carefully with the afterglow of my eyes, and it was not until you got out of the car that I dared to banish the tears that had been repressed in my eyes for a long time.
Unexpectedly, twenty years later, you and I should be so reunited, it is really hard to laugh or cry!
The thunder sounded vaguely, the rain outside the window is still dripping endlessly, every drop is a heartache tear, every sound is a sad memory.
In my misty tearful eyes, recalling your decadent face in the crowded carriage, I thought of the thin, lonely yellow leaf waiting for the drizzle to soothe
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