The morning that Jingxi left, I leaned against the door panel, holding my breath and listening to the movement outside. The pen ~ fun ~ pavilion www.biquge.info squeaked hoarsely opened the door, the crisp sound of high heels stepping on the bluestone slab, and the faint soft sigh...... Like an eavesdropper, I carefully eavesdropped on the sounds outside the door, and felt the parting with my sense of hearing. It's just that it seems that only the old time will stand still, and the long years to come in the future have never stopped hurrying.

When the rape flowers bloomed again in the field behind the town, the old man also passed away quietly, and it was too late to say goodbye.

At that time, winter had already been stepped into the cracks of the blue stone slabs of the path by the footsteps of spring, and the morning sun was slightly warm, sprinkled on the stone slabs, and the residual cold gradually disappeared.

The closed door of the old man's house was forcefully pulled open, and the woman who could not speak ran out and knocked on the door from door to door in the courtyard.

I went to open the door sleepily, and when she saw me, she was making exaggerated gestures that I couldn't understand, and screaming and her eyes turned red with urgency. I didn't know what was wrong with her, but she still looked dazed, so she simply took me by the arm and went back to the old man's room.

She took my hand and tried the old man's temperature, it was cold, and I suddenly realized what she wanted to say, and hurriedly retracted my hand. Overnight, the old man was also separated from the yin and yang of the world, and time took advantage of the cover of the confused night to quietly steal this person's life.

The human world is long, the human time is short, a ray of sunshine, a clear dream, the human time has been exhausted, and perhaps the expectations of the later life, but it came to an abrupt end at this moment.

Parting is really a sad thing, especially if you can't hope for the next reunion in the days to come.

The person who told me the story of the wooden frame yesterday can never wake up again, the story is half-shelved, broken, and can never be continued. People came in, sighed, and went out again, all the while. The woman who cared for the old man, standing beside her, her eyes red, the light coming in through the wooden window behind her, and I couldn't see her face against the light, and I was swallowed up by her shadow, and I could hear her chaotic breathing.

For a long time I looked at the old man, thinking that maybe in the next moment, he would suddenly open his eyes and tell me the unfinished story. So, I stayed by the bedside and kept looking forward to it, but he finally closed his eyes peacefully.

I remembered that afternoon, when my grandmother closed her eyes and many people came to call her, but she never woke up, and at that time, I snuggled up to my grandmother and murmured to her, and I always felt that if I called again, only one more call, and she would wake up. Her body was getting cold, and I was clinging to her, and I couldn't hear any echoes of life.

The old man was the same, I touched his cold hands, and I couldn't feel the rhythm that proved the existence of life.

That night, the lights of the old man's house were not extinguished all night, and the woman sat on the steps in front of the door all night, occasionally going in and out. The night was cold, the moisture adhered to her clothes, the cold seeped into her skin, and she hugged her arms and shivered.

In the early morning, I found that the dew had soaked my cloth shoes, and my feet were so stiff that I couldn't feel it.

Kyung-hee and his parents arrived the next day, and I was finally able to meet his parents.

His mother, a very beautiful woman, wore delicate makeup on her face, her golden heels stepped on the bluestone slab for a short syllable, her head always maintained a slight upward arc, and the sun hit her face, reflecting the light mixed with golden fragments, but not giving people the slightest warmth.

She always frowned slightly, holding the silent man beside her, it was her husband, Jingxi's father, who was as thin as Jingxi, with a little silver silk hidden in his hair. Jingxi was walking to his mother's right, always keeping a fist distance from her, and his mother tried to hold his hand, he subconsciously retracted his hand, looked away, and briefly met my gaze, blooming into a shallow smile.

The old man's affairs are very simple, and he is still deserted, except for Jingxi's family, and two or three neighbors who occasionally come to take a look, there is no one else. The white linen cloth covers the Spring Festival couplets pasted on the New Year, and there is a breeze blowing, and the bright red color looms under the white cloth, which is particularly eye-catching, like a bewitching flame climbing the door frame.

The field behind the town is the last place of the old people, and in the open space surrounded by rape flowers, those who sleep forever are buried. Jingxi dusted off the remaining dirt on the tombstone with his hand, and his fingers stroked the inscriptions, tears silently slid down his cheeks, dripping into the dirt wrapped in bright yellow petals in front of the grave, and disappeared without trace.

Overhead, the clouds were high and light, pulled out by the breeze in the shape of feathers, like birds with wings spread, skimming the bright yellow fields full of rape flowers, bringing the fragrance to the town in front of it, dissolving into the winding river that divided the town.

Not far away, my grandmother's sleeping place, where weeds spread everywhere, and small lilac flowers bloomed on the grave.

Before twilight, I followed Jingxi back and walked through those quiet alleys. The alleys in Gangnam are always narrow and long, straight from here to there. Overhead, there was a light blue sky, and it was rare to have such a bright day, and the sun poured down obliquely, hitting the wall on the other side.

Stepping on the pavement of the stone slab, the soles of the shoes collide with the slate with a crisp sound, mixed with the splashing notes, and the long, ethereal sound of the courtyard wall is full of nicks or peeling off the skin of the wall to reveal large pieces of blue bricks. Out of the alley, an old stone bridge spanned the winding river, and in the early spring, all sounds were still.

At this moment, the quiet Jiangnan is like an old ink painting, reflected on the ink-colored water. There is no gray magpie, no jackdaw, heaven and earth are just a scene of slaughter, life is the same as human emotions, suppressed to the extreme by the gloomy scene, and tears are also suffocated in the eyes. Occasionally, there is a new couplet on the door of someone's house, and between the ink and wash scenes, it is bright and dazzling.

After burying the old man, Jing Xi's parents found a buyer and asked someone to remove the old man's antiques. Jingxi knocked on my door in the evening and gave me a porcelain vase wrapped in cotton cloth with white flowers on a blue background, which the old man had promised me as a gift for my wedding. Now, this gift, which was originally shelved in the future, has traveled through a long time and space to belong to me because of this change.

Kyung-hee's parents have already cleaned up the house. The wooden shelves, devoid of antiques, were empty, as if they had been eviscerated, and the dust that had fallen on the lattice had been washed clean with water. I looked at the empty wooden shelf for a long time, and I could no longer see the stories it had once been full of.

(To be continued.) )