martyrdom

The bell rang for the end of get out of class, and the girls beside them who were fiddling with their mobile phones in a daze finally raised their heads, stretched their necks, moved their wrists, and threw their textbooks into their bags.

The old professor on the podium adjusted his glasses, stopped talking half of the history of ancient literature, and waved his hand to dismiss the get out of class.

People left one after another, I got up from the desk and chair in the corner, closed the lecture notes that I remembered densely, and walked towards him following the old professor's gaze.

"Ms. Yang asked me to listen to your class. I really benefited a lot and it is worth listening to."

The old professor smiled helplessly: "No matter how good the lecture is, what's the use if no one wants to listen to it. When is your interview?"

I have a headache: "Next Wednesday, it's exactly the same day as the thesis defense. I think... use the students from the class you just took, is that okay?"

"Why? They're not active."

I stuck out my tongue and replied, "There are fewer people coming, so I can relax a bit."

The old professor laughed out loud, patted me on the shoulder, and walked out of the empty classroom with a tattered book in his hand without saying anything.

I sat down again at the table by the window in the corner, propped my chin against the fine spring light leaking from the leaf cracks outside the window, and slowly closed my eyes.

There is only silence around my ears.

Next Wednesday is my life and death.The dissertation defense is related to my doctorate degree, and the interview is related to whether I can successfully stay in school after graduation, and become a lecturer in the Chinese Department in this century-old school specializing in literature and history.

In addition to these two big events, Wednesday is also the day when the novel I have been writing for two years is due.In the past two years, my editor sister has been looking forward to the stars and the moon, and I have exhausted my patience. Finally, I am looking forward to the deadline that is close at hand, but I am lucky to be half way short of the ending.

It was an ending that made me afraid to continue.

However, behind the half of the ending, there is a one-year mortgage payment for the two-bedroom apartment I live in, half a year's food expenses for me and the cat, and a purpose that currently seems to be only a luxury.That purpose depresses me more than defense and interview, and now I don't even dare to think about it casually.But even if I have to give up, I will write down this ending.

This is a commitment, but also an obsession.

The birds chirping outside the window made me have a splitting headache. I packed my things and got up to leave. As soon as I went out, I bumped into a girl who was in a hurry.Annoyedly picking up the knocked-off thing, hearing an apologetic sound from behind was extraordinarily sweet, and he felt inexplicably relieved.Turning around to see the girl's appearance, she walked quickly, and could only see a tall figure at the end of the corridor and a pair of slender white ankles under the long skirt.

I live off-campus, and although the way home is a bit long, it is shady all the way.I walked slowly with my book in my arms, thinking about my life after staying in school, teaching, writing, and no more all-night papers and complicated affairs.

Maybe it's time for a relationship.Although I went to school early, and I was studying in combination with master and doctorate, and now I am only 25 after graduating with a doctorate, but I have reached the age of being urged to have a boyfriend.The former youth and frivolity should also be given up along with that goal. It is ridiculous to think about it. After persisting in the belief for so many years, I never thought that one day, even myself would define it as youth and frivolity.

For the next novel, I can start writing my own story.What story will I have?You may not know until you start writing.

As for the ending of the novel at hand... I looked at the pairs of wild ducks on the artificial lake, and my eyes felt a little sore.The women I described are probably unfortunate, but in that context, which is the real misfortune, staying in the world or leaving the world?

It seems that it is time to discuss with the editor and extend the deadline for another half a month.I don't know if I will be killed.

That night, I had a dream about the girl I passed by during the day.Dreams are probably always like this, seemingly inadvertently expanding an inconspicuous detail in life, like a foreshadowing, which will surprise and chill you at a certain moment in the future.

That intermittent dream began under an old tree.

It was a spring evening, the sky was already dark, and the street lights were dimly discernible. The location was a familiar path next to the school.

The path is not wide, cars are parked on both sides, and two rows of tall street trees are planted.There was a faint figure under one of the trees, standing shivering in the darkness. I couldn't bear to see it, and wanted to walk over it, but I couldn't.There seems to be a force pulling me, I walked past the old tree without stopping at all, but looking back at the corner, I saw the tear stains on the face of the person under the tree... That face was strangely beautiful, but I noticed The white dress on her body.

And then there's the uncontrollable heartache.

The dream was full of noisy conversations and quarrels, and in the next scene, the scene suddenly shifted to the cold seaside.The sound of the waves hitting the reef was exceptionally clear. It seemed that there was a cold wind blowing on the body, like a sharp knife scraping the skin, and the heartache continued unabated and intensified in the cold.

It seemed that for a moment, I knew that I was dreaming, but I couldn't wake myself up, get rid of the emotions and feelings in the dream.

So real, so clear, I saw a slender, beautiful and warm hand holding me, and then I jumped into the deep blue sea!

When I woke up, I wiped my face, but it touched the water, and there was a lot of moisture on the pillow cover.Suddenly there was another burst of dazed heartache, as if I was still sinking in a dream, some emotions overwhelmed me and I couldn't breathe.

I suddenly realized, isn't this the half ending that I always wanted but didn't dare to write?It almost fits reality, and is more romantic and sad, but less bloody and tragic.Such an ending is probably more appropriate for them.

He climbed out of bed on all hands and feet, turned on the computer, and made himself a cup of coffee.It was already dawn, and the light from the desk lamp was adjusted to a dim yellow by me, mixed with the twilight morning light. Standing in front of the coffee machine and looking at it, it was just like a colorful morning glow on the horizon.I sat in front of the computer, took a sip of the brown liquid in the cup, and typed the first sentence of the last chapter on the screen——

The willows are light and the wind is blowing, the spring is beautiful, it is the May day in the world.

The author has something to say:

This is a little sweet article~

But I can guarantee that she is more exciting than double burial, because after so long, I always have to improve.

Believe me, just read on, Mouhui will not let you down.