After the white moonlight cuts the black

The cloudy weather turned sunny, the breeze was blowing, and the pine trees in the cemetery were covered with dew.

Meng Huaiming came to visit Yanhui's grave.

Tomb-sweeping but forgot to bring flowers, and came with empty hands, with only crumpled cigarettes in his pocket.

Meng Huaiming took out the cigarette case, removed the paper cover, and lost his mind for a moment.

He had smoked none of the cigarettes he opened in the morning.

In the past few days, he smoked so much that his memory was getting worse, so he could not forget the grave-sweeping incident.

The cemetery was heavily dewed, and Meng Huaiming found the place where Yanhui was. There was a photo embedded in the middle of the smooth marble tombstone. The owner of the photo looked indifferent, as if whoever came to worship was disturbing his purity.

The black-and-white processed photo is so distorted that it is said to be taken, but it is more like a small portrait sketched by hand.

Meng Huaiming was so familiar with this face that he could describe it with his eyes closed.

The soft short lines of the sketch form the hair, the smooth long lines form the outline, and the smooth brushstrokes gently rub the paper, and the brush strokes are affectionately collected at the bottom of the chin.

In the photo, Yanhui's lips are slightly pursed, the lip edges are blurred, the bridge of the nose is straight and straight, and the indentation of the glasses on both sides of the nose is not clear.

Strictly speaking, this is still a handsome face, a dignified and spiritual photo, but the expression is too alienated.

But there are very few surviving photos of Yan Hui.

He used to be an extremely contradictory body, and his mental illness tortured him unspeakably.

I am afraid of light during the day, and I have to turn on all the lights in the house at night, including wall lamps, floor lamps, crystal lamps, desk lamps, and scented candles.

More serious than the fear of light is the fear of sound, sometimes frightened by the hissing from his throat.

The bad thing is that he cried too often, his vision was affected, he could no longer stare at the electronic screen for a long time, and he couldn't write by hand. The manuscripts were always wet from crying, and the few complete ones were torn to pieces by him.

So I started to use recording software to send manuscripts to the editor in charge. I could dictate up to [-] words in one afternoon, and I couldn't speak for three days after that.

The doctor suggested that Yan Hui should be hospitalized for treatment. He resisted stubbornly and ran away that night, but was touched by a wild cat. He squatted on the curb and shared a bottle of mineral water with the chubby black cat.

The street lamps panicked, dragging out half a shadow of neither human nor ghost.

While Yan Hui was wandering on the main road, Meng Huaiming was attending a prestigious banquet with his new lover in a super city thousands of miles away.

The cellist stretched his right arm and drew the longbow.

"Ding"

Beside the dance floor, Meng Huaiming held Su Yaowen's waist, and the two clinked the goblet symbolizing love.

Sadness and joy never share.

After leaving Meng Huaiming, Yan Hui was still deeply immersed in writing feverishly, completing the ending of the novel "Rongchun".

The protagonist Luo Rou jumped down from the 39-story building, the sky was clear and spring was full of joy.

"All the flowers in the garden are in bloom."

Coincidentally, Yan Hui himself died in the cold and dissipating spring.

Different from the tragic death of the protagonist in his novels, Yan Hui's death is simply inexplicable.

He died one year and three months after breaking up with Meng Huaiming.

If he didn't run into Meng Huaiming on the street, he might be able to live a good life.

The two who met by accident had dinner in an elegant private restaurant. West Lake vinegar fish, steamed meat with lotus leaf powder, garlic shrimp, and oil-braised wild rice. Meng Huaiming ordered dishes according to his taste. Yan Hui ate a lot and drank A small half bottle of beer.

In a year, things changed and people changed. Meng Huaiming's family company went bankrupt, and the meal cost him the few hundred dollars he had.

Yan Hui has a poor capacity for alcohol, and after drinking, his face turns pale instead of red, and his eyes are set in his porcelain-white face, which are two holes cut in the gray wall, and cherries hanging on the top of the snow.

Meng Huaiming smiled at him, Yan Hui looked at him empty-handedly, there was no ferocious sternness in his eyes, nor the compassion of a Bodhisattva.

Suddenly grabbing his wrist, he didn't have much reaction, but the ulna would slam into the palm.

Yan Hui let Meng Huaiming hold her wrist, and took off the frameless mirror on the bridge of her nose with her free hand. After a long silence, she finally made a joke.

"Mr. Meng, thinking about other people through one person is the way of romance novels."

He also joked happily: "Hey, Huai Ming, where is Xia Yuhe by the Daming Lake? Did you elope with Xia Yingying?"

Speaking of this, it is inevitable to be bitter and mean.

But his expression remained unchanged, as if he really just said an insignificant line just now.

Meng Huaiming felt dazed for a while, he didn't dare to ask for Yan Hui's forgiveness.

After all, the shameful act of abandoning the old love just because he had a new love was what Er Shao Meng did.

So we continued to eat and drink.

Later, when Yan Hui was drunk, Meng Huaiming carried him into his car. It was the beginning of spring at that time, the cold was getting away, and everything was recovering.

Yan Hui's drunkenness came and went quickly, he fell asleep in the car for four to ten minutes, and when he woke up he felt cold all over.

Brilliant neon lights flowed outside the window, and fireworks poured into the world, watering a city of steel.

Meng Huaiming thought that Yan Hui would yell at her to stop immediately after waking up, but he didn't do that.

The young man covered with a coat shrank down, burying half of his face in the collar of his suit.

Meng Huaiming's heart felt hot.

The division of animals' territory is marked by smell, which gives them the meaning of enclosure and possession. They can do whatever they want in the circle, which is really free and pure joy.

The ultimate fantasy of advanced animals is actually similar.

It's just that they are more gentle. Before being driven by instinct, they first learned to love, and then chose to love.

Yan Hui glanced at him, and the tall billboard behind the car window flashed by.

Half of his face was highly exposed, and one pupil was alienated by the reflection. Seeing this, Meng Huaiming felt an inexplicable sense of strangeness to Yan Hui, whom he had not seen for a year.

The half of Huang Liang's face quickly fell silent, the trick was over, and the demons retreated.

Yan Hui closed her eyes, opened them slowly after a while, and complained casually: "It's a bit cold, it will be troublesome to catch a cold when I go back, and I have a deadline for writing next week."

He still wanted to continue to sleep, his eyelids were almost glued, but suddenly he began to talk in a trance, his nasal congestion made his articulation blurred, his voice was muffled, with sticky endings between his utterances, and the syllables were softly glued together.

More than a year.

The last time Meng Huaiming heard this soft sound quality was on the open-air balcony of his home.

They were still in love a year ago, trying everything possible to get close.

The young man's shoulders to his fingertips were slightly red, Meng Huaiming couldn't see enough, so he held his chin and lifted his face.

Yan Hui struggled, like a fish struggling in the sea of ​​desire, the water was completely boiling.

In a panic, he stretched out his hand and broke the light cord.

The lamp of Zhaohua turned on with a "snap", and the small orange wall lamp was dedicated to its duties, originally to be worthy of Lilac's shyness.

Meng Huaiming folded the leaf and brought it closer to his lips, Yan Hui naturally picked it up, her moist lips were bleeding red, and she grabbed a clove leaf.

Red lips and white teeth, how can I describe it?

Green, fat, red and thin is the heartbeat.

At that time they were still intimate lovers, Yan Hui would whisper in his ear like a whisper: "Huai Ming, help me remember."

Yan Hui is a writer, and has a bad habit. After sleeping, she often forgets the plots and plots she thought of before going to bed, so she always asks Meng Huaiming to remember them.

Meng Huaiming never got tired of this little game at first.

He likes Yanhui very much, but this liking is not as deep as the feeling buried in his heart.

Meng Huaiming has had a love interest since high school, and he has been chasing after him for many years.

The object of his crush is Su Yaowen, who is Meng Huaiming's first love, Bai Yueguang.

Just when Meng Huaiming had the idea of ​​living with Yan Hui like this, Bai Yueguang returned to China and boldly confessed his love to him.

That mood, like wine that has been craving for a long time, suddenly appeared in the cup on the dining table, why not try it?

Meng Huaiming was very happy, one was happy to revive his old dream, and the other was happy to have his wish fulfilled.

He sent the most promising IP script "Dear Man by the Window" to Su Yaowen's assistant, promising that as long as Su Yaowen goes to the audition, he will definitely be the number one male.

When the ratings of "The Man by the Window" reached its peak, Meng Huaiming made a clean break with Yan Hui.

——and Yan Hui is the original author of this book.

Perhaps Yan Hui himself didn't expect that his book made a big star, fulfilled his boyfriend and first love.

When Meng Huaiming told Yan Hui that he was a screenwriter for a film and television drama, half-truths and half-false words were the most confusing. He is indeed a screenwriter. Of course, if he wants to be a producer or investor, it is not impossible.

Yan Hui's identity is Meng Huaiming's lover, the contributor of the novel, and the provider of ip. It was Meng Huaiming who trained him from a fairy tale writer to a popular best-selling writer.

After more than ten months, Meng Huaiming didn't know that the story of the youth's fairy tale unit had come to an unfinished end.

And also ten months later, Meng Huaiming's family was ruined, and his Bai Yueguang was the main culprit.

Meng Huaiming was no longer the young master of the Meng family, but he reunited with his ex-boyfriend Yan Hui under such embarrassment.

Inside the car, Yan Huixing's eyes were half-closed, his posture was lazy, like a stray cat borrowing his way, he said slowly: "Chuqi back to school?"

Meng Huaiming's tone became lighter unconsciously: "Well, I heard that she emptied your bookcase, do you need to buy it for you?"

"Need not."

Yan Hui doted too much on her niece Meng Chuqi and indulged in almost all of her demands. Meng Huaiming was shocked by their way of getting along several times, and once suspected that Yan Hui was Meng Chuqi's blood relative.

"She likes the books you wrote. After the high school entrance examination, go to the bookstore to order your new works."

"Your series of children's books have been republished."

"What's the ending of <Rongchun>? Chu Qi said that she cried."

"She said in the epilogue that you had a hint of closing the pen."

Ever since Su Yaowen moved into Meng's house, Chuqi still learned to run away from home, and then he suspended school due to physical reasons, and returned to school not long ago to study.

She knows all of Yan Hui's works, and used to use coquettish methods to ask him to spoil the later ones.

After Chu Qi returned to Meng's house, she contacted Yan Hui once, but she never mentioned the content of the epilogue to him directly. The content of the call was ordinary, and she was polite and restrained.

The little girl grew up, so fast.

The continuous questioning only resulted in Yan Hui's silence, the car window was half-opened, and the evening wind lightly jumped over the glass, blowing away the broken hair on the forehead, and there was a pale scar across the smooth forehead, like a white lightning splitting the sky .

"<Rongchun> will not be my last book."

"That puts us at ease."

Yan Hui cleared her throat, her soft and waxy voice disappeared without a trace, and then she became a little hoarse again: "Stop in front."

Meng Huaiming did as he did, he locked the car and insisted on going with Yan Hui.

In the beautifully decorated window is a string of pearl necklaces, reservedly waiting for the beauty's swan neck.

Yan Hui stopped in front of a warm-style children's clothing store, and Meng Huaiming stood shoulder to shoulder with him.

"us……"

Meng Huaiming organized his words, he just wanted to talk to Yan Hui, even if it was trivial matters.

Just as he was about to start, there were a few screams at the end of the long street.

Immediately after his eyes blurred, the back of his head had an intimate contact with the earth.

Meng Huaiming was in severe pain all over his body. He felt that his head had been smashed flat. The weight on his chest made him unable to breathe.

Then I got a handful of greasy liquid, which was not only thick, but also hot.

The probability of encountering someone stabbing someone in the street is as low as winning 500 million in the lottery.

I don't know whether Meng Huaiming's luck is too "good" or Yan Hui's luck is too "bad".

Until more than a hundred days had passed since this incident, Meng Huaiming could not completely recall the process of waiting for the ambulance with his arms in his arms, but only vaguely remembered that he was sitting on the road, with the asphalt pricking his hands, surrounded by the sound of horns honking like mountains and tsunami.

Yan Hui's body was extremely cold, and he was still shaking at first, but he became silent after a while, his glasses fell somewhere, and he half-opened his eyes, staring blankly at the sky where the moon hung low.

In novels and TV dramas, characters babbling a lot before death is basically impossible in reality. Severe pain and massive blood loss will deprive a person of consciousness in the shortest time, so until the end, Yan Hui only had the strength to say three words. words.

"sorry."

He was in great pain, and he closed his eyes as soon as he finished speaking, that movement was so fast, it could be called neat and clean, and his death was smooth and smooth.

Yan Hui didn't make it to the hospital. His heart stopped for 5 minutes and his brain died. He left behind a stiff body and a plausible apology.

Why is he apologizing?

Meng Huaiming didn't know, and life and death separated all possibilities of answers.

The stele was clean and cold, and Meng Huaiming looked at it for a long time.

He remembered Yan Hui's penguin signature: "He led the wandering soul out of the fence."

Now that I think about it, it is also suitable to be mentioned on the tombstone.

The people inside and outside the photo looked at each other for a long time, as if they were more affectionate than affectionate.

"Swallow Ash."

Meng Huaiming said hoarsely, "It's really boring for you to behave like this."

The wind in the cemetery moved the branches and leaves, making a rustling sound.

Meng Huaiming recalled the last time they met, Yan Hui's attitude was very strange, she was calm throughout the whole process, her tone, expression, and emotion were mild, and she was even sarcastic and careless.

Yan Hui is no longer the young man with a bright smile.

What can change a person to this point?

—Why should he apologize?

A fire burned in Meng Huaiming's heart. The young man in his memory should be proud, eager, and in high spirits.

In his memory, he and Yan Hui's house always had the smell of sweet soup wafting, and there was a lamp that never went out in the corridor.

He felt a slight suffocation in his memory, the feeling of being pinched tightly by his fingers was not painful enough, the suffocation was more terrifying than the piercing pain.

In this wonderful pain, Meng Huaiming drove away from the cemetery, and he still had to find a way to solve his own food and clothing problems.

Drive into the highway, turn the steering wheel with one hand, and drive into the ramp...

Immediately, his sight was filled with the wide front of the big truck!

boom--!

"what!"

Meng Huaiming jumped up and sat up!

He looked at his hands, and what he saw was not bloody and bloody, and the environment he was in changed from inside the car to indoors.

The ceiling reflected the light blocks cast by the car lights outside the window, elongated and disappeared... Hearing recovered, and the rainwater hit the window, crackling and frenzied.

The snow-white lightning fell across the sky, brightening the surrounding fields, and there was nowhere to hide in the darkness.

There was a loud thunder, and the steel and iron bones were trembling.

Meng Huaiming raised his head suddenly, and the young man standing by the bed was like a ghost who had come back from the dead, wearing white pajamas, long eyelashes like crow feathers drooping, and a condescending attitude.

——That’s swallow ash.

The sonorous and powerful heartbeat in the chest can make Meng Huaiming clearly feel the existence of life.

Meng Huaiming held his breath.

But he didn't have time to be ecstatic, the next moment he was shocked by Yan Hui's expression.

In the blue and white electric light, Yan Hui was cheerful and gentle.

And in his right hand, he was holding a shiny kitchen knife!

The author has something to say: Meng: Check in after rebirth.Come on, Chapter 1 was hacked by the daughter-in-law with a kitchen knife...

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This article was slightly depressed in the early stage, and came back sweetly after the crematorium 2333

The same series easily ask for acceptance from the column "The Villain Finds the Han President"