he can fly

sixty.

Luca nodded and put her arm around little Pauline's shoulders.

Little Pauline smiled gratefully.

-

After buying the book to be read with Ai Bao, Yan Tang took a walk with Ai Bao every night and came back with something to do.

The few books selected by Aibao are basically all illustrations.

There are words, but there are only one or two lines at most, scattered in one picture after another, like a group of wild geese lost in the wheat field.

Aibao is very satisfied with this.

"I just like this kind of book!" Ai Bao looked up at Yan Tang who was blowing his hair while flipping through the book in his hand.

Holding the hair dryer, Yan Tang meticulously combed his curly hair.

Looking at Yan Tang from Ai Bao's position, he could only see Yan Tang's cold and hard jaw.

Yan Tang rubbed his half-wet hair helplessly.

"It's fine if you like it." Yan Tang said.

But reading books with illustrations is still very beneficial to Aibao.

These books full of strange images and pictures strangely inspired Ai Bao's creation.

At night, he shared his new poem with Yan Tang with a little pride:

"God said to a worm:

'Hey, it turns out you

so small! '

he held out a little finger

Let the bugs jump on his hands

Chong Chong said: 'Yes

I have always been this small. '

So God thought about it

He also got smaller and smaller

as small as a bug

together they

fly away"

When Yan Tang read Ai Bao's poem, he had an indescribable feeling that he didn't have much literary accomplishment, he didn't know how to appreciate poetry, and Yan Tang didn't guess the "God" in Ai Bao's poem What on earth are you doing with "Cong Chong".

But he felt a very tender emotion for no reason.

"What do the gods and worms want to do?" Yan Tang closed Ai Bao's masterpiece of poetry and asked Ai Bao who was holding a new picture book in his arms to read.

Ai Bao raised his head, "Of course I'm going out to play!"

He said, "Maybe we have to find a little flower to play with. If the flower is open, they can sit on the petals and slide on the slide. If Huahua has something on his mind and hangs his head, they can talk to the flower who has something on his mind." Let's chat."

Yan Tang nodded and praised, "I think this poem is great and well written."

The little curly hair on the top of Aibao's head curled up.

He raised his chin quite proudly.

Yan Tang casually flipped through Ai Bao's masterpiece of poetry.

In this book, there are actually relatively few complete poems. Yan Tang searched and found only a few poems, most of which he had already read.

And the rest are basically just a few fragmented and intermittent words.Sometimes there are a large group of black dots drawn by Aibao with a black pen, covering up the wrong words underneath.

Ai Bao likes to share his new poems with him. Every time Ai Bao has a new poem, he will take the book and show it to Yan Tang at night.

Yan Tang originally thought that Ai Bao liked to share his works with others, and got a kind of affirmation.

Later, however, Professor Zeng told him inadvertently that Ai Bao was very resistant to others reading his poetry book and could only read it with his permission.

It was only then that Yan Tang realized that Ai Bao didn't like to share his works with others, but liked to share his poems with him, just him.

Yan Tang held Ai Bao in his arms, wrapped his arms around his waist, and continued to read his masterpieces of poetry.

Ai Bao leaned comfortably on Yan Tang's chest, and happily continued to flip through the book.

He still hasn't finished the book that Yan Tang browsed in the bookstore last time.

When leaving, Yan Tang thought about it, but he didn't buy it.

Recalling the book that he put back on the shelf, Yan Tang couldn't tell what it was like.

At the age of 17, he hadn't finished reading the book, and at the age of 27, he hadn't finished reading the book either. Now that Yan Tang thinks about it, he feels a little sad in his heart.

It's mid-to-late April, the weather is getting warmer, and the company's affairs are much easier. Yan Tang left work early today, which is rare.

Of course, like him, there is also Chen Shan.

"I can finally go back early tonight." Chen Shan said to Yan Tang, putting on hand cream.

Her hands kept rubbing and rubbing each other, like a changing flower.

"Take a good rest." Yan Tang said.

Chen Shan has been working overtime recently. Sometimes when he checks his mailbox in the morning, he can see the email message from Chen Shan at two or three o'clock in the morning.

Chen Shan let out a hiccup.

"Rest is out of the question," she waved her hand. "I have to go shopping and buy some clothes. I don't have enough clothes to wear."

Yan Tang glanced up and down at Chen Shan calmly.

He sees that Chen Shan's clothes are not the same every day, why are there so few clothes?

Chen Shan glanced at Yan Tang's silent and confused expression, and knew what the old man was confused about.

"I don't want to talk about this with an antique like you," Chen Shan tsk-tsk in disgust, "I'm a follower of fashion trends."

Yan Tang looked at Chen Shan Nongchaoer who was next to him, shrugged his shoulders indifferently, and said oh.

The 27-year-old Antique Yan Tang stood in the elevator with Chen Shan, a new-era trendy girl. The two chatted one after another until they parted ways in the underground parking lot.

Yan Tang got into the car.

He got off work early today, and he originally wanted to go to the gym to practice.

However, when he started his car, Yan Tang didn't know why it kept recurring in his mind, a sentence from the book he read in the bookstore.

"He didn't understand that on the journey of life, one has to cross a large area of ​​arid, barren, and treacherous wilderness before entering the living reality. The so-called 'youth is more happy' is just an illusion, a youth that has passed away. An illusion of people."

These words, like a voice, kept circulating in his mind.

Even if Yan Tang covered his ears, it echoed in his mind over and over again.

Sometimes, it uses the 17-year-old's hoarse and immature voice, like that day when he skipped school in a gray afternoon and read this book alone. His face was blurred in the gloom.

Sometimes, it uses the 27-year-old's deep voice, which is a little cold and has other indescribable meanings.

When Yan Tang came back to his senses, he had already driven to the door of the old bookstore.

Yan Tang looked at the old bookstore in front of him, and sat in the car for a while.

He thought about parking his car.go down.

It's always on the way, so it's okay to go and have a look.

When Yan Tang went this time, there were fewer people in the bookstore than last time, only two or three people.

As soon as he walked into the door of the bookstore, the boss recognized him.

"Come to buy books?" the fat bookstore owner said to Yan Tang with narrowed eyes.

He was holding his own purple sand teacup in his hand, looking very leisurely.

Yan Tang nodded at him, "Come and see."

As he spoke, he thought of Li Ming again, and asked casually, "Is Li Ming not here?"

The bookstore owner didn't speak. He put down his teacup and stroked his beard.

"Go back," said the bookstore owner.

There was a hint of helplessness on his chubby face, "His father was injured on the construction site, and the father and son had to go back to their hometown first."

Yan Tang was silent for a while.

"I'm sorry," he said.

He really didn't expect that the child he saw only a few days ago was small, full of vigor and vitality, but now, before everything started, he had already left this place.

The bookstore owner shook his hand, "No way, that's it."

He didn't want to talk any more, so he lay back on the rocking chair, turned on the phonograph and listened to a little song, and stopped talking to Yan Tang.

The people on the phonograph were babbling, and the owner of the bookstore didn't care about the customers in the store, and hummed along.

Yan Tang couldn't tell whether it was Kunqu Opera or Huangmei Opera, and he didn't understand classical things at all.

But the voice is tactful, and it sounds unique.

Yan Tang glanced at the bookstore owner again.

He also walked away tactfully, and went to find the book by himself.

Maybe this time, he should buy the book?

But not necessarily.

Yan Tang shuttled between the rows of bookshelves, the location of the books, Yan Tang remembered that he put them on the third row of bookshelves.

But, unfortunately, he looked at it, and it wasn't there.

It is estimated that other people came after him, they read it, and then randomly put it in any corner.

Yan Tang thought that it was near here after all, so he couldn't miss it, so he could only look at it one by one.

The aisle between the bookshelves and the bookshelves is narrow and long.

When Yan Tang was walking in it, the ink smell of books and paper mixed with the smell of old wood, rushed towards him.

If you add a little strong smell of washing powder to your body, it will basically be the appearance of Yan Tang in his memory when he was 17 years old in school uniform, rampant and wandering around in the bookstore.

Yan Tang's eyes flicked over the books one by one.

Some books are a little old, the spines are loose and faded, some books are still very new, maybe they have just arrived, and they are still protected by a transparent film.

Truth be told, he's never been one for nostalgia.

He also doesn't think he's old enough to miss anything.

Except for the bloody and scabbed tattoos on his ribs, the broken glass bottles all over the floor, and the torn pieces of fleeting time, Yan Tang didn't know what his past, his youth, and his youth brought him.

It's probably April, spring is here, everything has recovered, and Yantang's meager, negligible hypocrisy has begun to overflow and grow.

Yan Tang bowed his head and smiled self-deprecatingly.

He stood in front of the middle shelf, and he hadn't found the book yet.

However, just as he himself didn't know why he came to this bookstore, he didn't know why he didn't want to look for that book anymore.

17-year-old Yan Tang didn't finish reading the book, and 27-year-old Yan Tang didn't finish reading the book, so let it never be finished, and it will become a dispensable little regret.

Yan Tang thought.

He thought, took back his steps, changed direction and prepared to go back,

Yan Tang looked at his watch, it was [-]:[-] in the afternoon, and he might be able to give Ai Bao a surprise when he went back now.

Thinking of Ai Bao, Yan Tang's dark gloom was suddenly swept away, and his brows and eyes unknowingly stretched.

His steps lightened up.

Maybe people always get nervous, and they always get nervous and do some time-wasting and meaningless things.

Now Yan Tang's mind no longer echoed the words in the book.

He began to regret, why did he stop the car at the door of the bookstore just now?This wasted time was enough for him to go to the cake shop on the other side to order a small cake for Ai Bao.

Sure enough, Yan Tang thought in his heart, what hurts the spring and the moon is still not suitable for him.

Yan Tang shook his head, secretly laughing that he was becoming more neurotic as he got older.

He was walking, and suddenly, a hesitant voice came from the bookshelf behind him——

"...Brother Yan?"

Yan Tang suddenly turned his head.

He met the speaker's eyes.

The man's eyes still looked as tender as before.

Like the 17-year-old him and the 17-year-old him in the old bookstore, they found each other at a glance.