Rebel Demon King

Chapter 575

(Thanks for the reward of "wasting half a year", first repay one update, owe 4)

The colorful drops of water instantly extinguished the flames on the oil painting. Under the illumination of the orange corridor lights, the flickering light splashed on the heads of Cheng Mo and Bai Xiuxiu, and soon got them both wet. December, Hunan Province The weather was cold, and both of them were wearing very thin clothes, shivering slightly in the cold water curtain.

Cheng Mo's hand holding the painting hangs down weakly. At this moment, half of the painting has been burned, half of the frame is like charcoal, as if it will break at any time, half of the canvas attached to the frame, the curled edge is burnt An irregular line slanted in half of the scorched black frame.

Cheng Mo looked at Bai Xiuxiu's face, water droplets flowed down her jet-black hairline and sharp chin, the drenched white round-neck silk sweater was tightly attached to the slender neck, clearly showing the beauty of her collarbone The outline of the body, the soaked cloth fell naturally like water, until the high and round breast below, even the pattern of the hoodie was clearly visible.

But Cheng Mo's gaze didn't look down a bit, he just looked at Bai Xiuxiu's face with messy hair, and felt that her appearance at the moment lacked the indifference of being superior, and added a bit of fragility
Just when Bai Xiuxiu was about to speak, Cheng Mo spoke first.

"This is my first oil painting. The last time I painted was to help Mr. Shen complete the huge graffiti, but that time I just filled in the colors according to the graphics that Mr. Shen had created. I used to think that painting was very difficult Difficult things, how many times that experience gave me some confidence and gave me the courage to pick up a paintbrush”

Cheng Mo's plain and emotionless voice echoed in the narrow porch, passing through the little waterline, which made people feel a little transparent and fuzzy, just like the white burr with burrs on this canvas.

"After adjusting the paint and standing in front of the canvas, the image of the first time I saw you appeared in my mind. Your patent leather high-heeled shoes were solemn and proud under the bright light, and shuttled in the rhythm of the drums. , every stroke hits my heart. Before, I didn't quite understand why my master likes to send paintings to beautiful girls, but now I can understand. When I conceived this painting, I felt very happy, no matter what Masterpieces are born from a piece of pure white. Conversely, a masterpiece has long been hidden in this canvas. Thinking that I can put the picture of seeing you for the first time on the canvas, there is a kind of tension in my mind A complex feeling intertwined with respect.

After a pause, Cheng Mo said softly, "This feeling is actually not bad."

"However, for a novice like me who has never painted before, the most tormenting thing in the painting process is how to put the first stroke on the canvas. The canvas in front of me has hundreds of millions of possibilities. At this moment I am equal to all the famous painters in history. However, when I look at the canvas, I can’t put pen to paper. I am a little afraid that I can’t express the effect I want on this canvas, and I can’t show you in my mind. The most profound look in the world."

"I've thought about it for a long time, and now draw your outline in the middle, that's right, use white paint to draw your outline on a white canvas first, although the beginning of this is a bit nonsensical, the picture about you in my memory is also beginning The moment of painting became blurred, and those details were looming, which made me elusive. I was drawing reluctantly, and the image of you holding the wine glass flashed back in my mind. Live, feeling like I have returned to that time in my life, standing behind you.”

At this time, Cheng Mo's voice became more and more excited, just like the burning painting, which was just a cluster of tiny flames at the beginning, but later turned into a bunch of scorching torches.

Cheng Mo himself doesn't know what's wrong, originally he just wanted to say a few provocative words, but the more he said, a little pain in his heart that couldn't heal suddenly began to burst, and the bright red blood couldn't stop flowing out, no matter what he said now No matter how much compensation he got, he couldn't let go of being forced to become a nihilist who believed in philosophy (Note 1).

Those fiery words never stopped, and Cheng Mo could blurt out almost without thinking, but Cheng Mo's thoughts drifted to a rainy evening in junior high school.

The day is probably also such a cold winter. The overwhelming rain curtain outside the teaching building makes it impossible to see the school gate not far away. The raindrops hit everything attached to the ground, making dense and continuous sounds, cleaning the noisy world into silence Down, all other sounds are gone, voices, car horns, pop music from the store.
Only the continuous sound of rain remained.

Standing under the canopy of the teaching building, Cheng Mo watched other parents come to pick up their children. Some parents were driving cars, some were wearing raincoats, and some were holding umbrellas. Cheng Mo looked at Huang Yiyi Helping her mother's arm to put on the rain boots, her mother is also very beautiful, with long hair, a round face and a kind smile.After changing the rain shoes, Huang Yiyi's mother put her little leather shoes into a plastic bag, hung them on the umbrella handle and walked into the downpour with her arms around her shoulders. The big raindrops hit the soft umbrella cloth, making a loud noise. With a gentle voice, Cheng Mo retreated into the teaching building. When his father went abroad to attend a seminar, no one would come to pick him up. Why not stand inside the teaching building to avoid the wind and wait for the rain to stop.

He watched all the lights in the teaching building go out, all the students had left, the sky was getting dark and the rain didn't mean to stop at all, he thought: I can only go to the store in front of the school to buy some umbrella.

He walked into the heavy rain and walked slowly forward. The cold raindrops soaked his whole body in an instant, but he couldn't run faster. Philosophy couldn't warm his trembling body at this moment, and philosophy couldn't bring him closer to teaching. The distance between the building and the store, the scar that was usually buried, was immediately dripped with blood by the pouring rain. This is the pain that Cheng Mo can't express, and no matter how long it takes, he can't heal.

Cheng Mo felt that he could understand his mother giving up on him. He heard from his father that his mother was actually very sad, and he really understood.It's just at this moment, mother, a word that is unfamiliar to him, that he strongly feels her existence.

Cheng Mo wondered if her mother would think that one day, in a torrential rain, the son she gave up would stand in the cold rain and think of her.

He went to the store in front of the school and bought the largest umbrella. At this time, the cotton coat on his body was full of water, and his underwear and trousers were stuck to his skin. It was cold and uncomfortable. He took the umbrella and walked to the road. , the vehicle was speeding, and the lights seemed very far away in the heavy rain.

He walked home slowly trembling, feeling that he had exhausted all his strength, so he quickly took off his clothes, took a hot bath, and lay down under the cold blanket.

Cheng Mo curled up and thought, "How happy I would be if I had a warm embrace."

The memory and the scene in front of him were mixed together, which made the cold feeling on Cheng Mo's body even more bone-chilling. His voice began to cool down from the heat, and became cold in the flying water curtain.

"Maybe you can see that my painting has traces of imitating Van Gogh. For a novice like me, imitation is not a shameful thing. I am actually very happy to show myself in the way of my favorite painter Desiring woman, of course, I can't do what Van Gogh did, transforming the pain and suffering in life into passionate beauty on canvas. Even a layman like me knows that pain is easy to express in painting, but how to combine passion and passion? It is very difficult to express the passion, joy, and magnificence of the world through pain.”

"For me, you are the same, full of pain, passion, joy, magnificence. Maybe you are like the first oil painting in my life, first simple white lines, and then layer after layer of paint on the bottom Color, the bright color is getting deeper and deeper on the white canvas, but you can only be presented on the canvas by me after all, and my white paper, no matter how it is added, is always just a piece that can be discarded piece."

Cheng Mo threw the remaining half of the burned painting at Bai Xiuxiu's feet, "I will never let other people's expectations plan the course of my destiny. Even if I can't change my destiny, I can challenge it."

Said Wan Mo turned and walked into the safety stairs, and quickly disappeared into the darkness.

Bai Xiuxiu looked down at the oil painting that had been burned and then watered. Clear drops of water flowed on the acrylic paint. After refraction, this painting exudes the taste of time passing.

What Cheng Mo said was still echoing in Bai Xiuxiu's ears. Seeing that only half of the painting was left, she felt a kind of pain that went deep into the bone marrow. It reminded her of the day when she learned of her husband's death. The feeling of bewilderment revived in her heart.

At this time, the fire sprinkler was finally turned off, and the water curtain disappeared. Bai Xiuxiu bent down and reached out to pick up the painting, and gently wiped off the accumulated water on it. She seemed to hear the sound of paint being applied to the canvas.
　Note 1: Nihilism-as a philosophical meaning, it believes that the world, especially the existence of human beings, has no meaning, purpose, understandable truth and the most essential value.It is not so much a position expressed publicly by one person as a counter-opinion.Many commentators believe that movements such as Dada, Deconstructionism, and Punk are all nihilistic in nature, and nihilism is also defined as a characteristic of certain eras.Such as: Baudrillard (Baudrillard) said that postmodern is the era of nihilism.A nihilist is called a nihilist (has nothing).

　　
　
(End of this chapter)