paddle

In a small town in the San Francisco Bay Area, a thin young man of Chinese descent walked in the morning mist. His soft black hair was dampened by the mist, and a few locks stuck to his forehead, revealing his snow-white forehead and cheeks. A pair of big eyes are like black stones soaked in spring water, clear and clear, holding a bouquet of flowers in his arms, the wrists exposed outside the sleeves are too thin, the wrist bones protrude from the metacarpal bones to the pink fingers, With a relaxed expression on his face, he took out the key and opened a door and walked in.There is a small and unique signboard hanging on the door, with a word written in Chinese: Cocoon.Next to the small English words: Gallery.

He went to the office inside, opened the windows for ventilation, cleaned up the vases on the table, filled them with water, and carefully cut the branches and arranged flowers with scissors.

The small bell at the door jingled crisply, and a young girl of South American descent came in to greet him: "Good morning Rafael!"

He smiled back: "Morning, Chris!"

This is Han Qingchen's recovery gift from his adoptive father, Han Yi - a small gallery.He had a serious car accident half a year ago. Not only was his body seriously injured, but his head was also damaged. Unfortunately, he lost almost all his memory.

He lives with his adoptive father and his adoptive father's partner in a small town in the Bay Area. The family of three lives peacefully and happily. Fortunately, although he lost his memory, the painting skills he has been learning since he was a child are still there. After he recovered, he picked up a brush and became familiar with it , the paintings in the gallery now include his own, as well as the works of some students and artists represented by Chris.

At the same time, he is also a budding children's picture book artist, and he published a booklet with only a few pages, which received a good response.

He inserted the vase, adjusted the angle, and placed it satisfactorily. Chris brought him a cup of tea: "Here, your tea."

"Thank you." He thanked him and took it, then put his nose on the other's cup and sniffed it, "Evil, coffee."

Chris said with distaste: "Those who can't appreciate coffee are children."

The gallery is basically quiet for a long time, with few visitors, and many businesses are advertised and traded online.

Han Qingchen sorted out the simple tasks, said hello to Chris, and went to the studio to paint.

He is drawing a dream.

After he recovered from his illness, he always had dreams. In his dreams, there was always a person. That person had no specific image, but was always expressed in a symbolic image. Sometimes it was a pair of hands, sometimes it was a watch, or even a hand. A gun, a bow tie or a pair of cufflinks.When he appeared, the atmosphere in the dream was either very happy or painful. Sometimes it was being warmly embraced in the arms of someone on a rainy night, and sometimes he was fighting with people in the car like in a movie.

When he woke up, he had carefully thought about who was in the dream, but thinking about it would cause severe headache and convulsions.

The adoptive father said that his life has always been peaceful, and he has never had a lover. It may be the aftermath of a car accident, and he took him to see a psychiatrist regularly.

The one he was painting was a scene that he had dreamed about a while ago. It was a beautiful villa. There was a fireplace burning in the spacious study. He was hugged by that man, slowly rocking on the rocking chair in front of the fireplace, the man was reading some report in his hand, he turned his head to see his face, but was always blocked by those pages with.

The painting is almost finished. In a room with warm colors, there is an empty rocking chair in front of the fireplace.He found that he could draw the fireplace and the rocking chair clearly, and even the patterns on them were as clear as if they were compared with real objects. However, the people on the rocking chair were so blurred that they were just a few pieces of paper dangling in front of his eyes.

Han Qingchen sighed, wondering why he felt so melancholy for no reason.

On the way home at night, he bought bread at the shop he frequented, and when he entered the door with a paper bag in his arms, he found his adoptive father's partner, Hong Tu, standing at the door, as if waiting for him.

"Uncle, I'm back."

The adoptive father's partner was a tall, taciturn man, often deadpan, but handsome and dependable.It was rare for him to have a nervous look on his face today.

Early morning was very sensitive, and asked him a little suspiciously: "What's wrong? Where's Daddy?"

Hong Tu took the paper bag in his hand, "Oh, it's nothing, there is a guest at home, and Daddy is entertaining him."

There was a person sitting on the sofa. When he saw his figure in the early morning, he felt a great sense of familiarity accompanied by a headache. He couldn't help but moaned while covering his forehead.

Hong Tu hurriedly helped him to sit down, and quickly fed the sedative into his mouth as if he was ready.

After a while, the headache was not so severe. In the morning, I greeted the person opposite with a little embarrassment: "I'm sorry, I have an old problem of headache."

The person opposite is very tall and thin, with a strangely stiff face, high browbones and cheekbones, a pointed and long nose, and the skin on his face is very bad, a bit uneven , can be said to be very ugly.The only thing on the face is the pair of eyes. The flying phoenix eyes make people feel as if they were stolen from other places, which is very inappropriate.

The man stared at Han Qingchen closely, his face was stiff, but his eyes seemed to be able to speak a thousand words.

He spoke with a hoarse voice: "Hi, I live next door... My name is Mars."

Han Qingchen nodded, and looked up a little strangely at his adoptive father and uncle standing on both sides of him like two door gods, with expressions on their faces as if they were facing a formidable enemy.

Han Yi reacted first, "Oh, this is Mars who just moved next door, and he immigrated here recently."

Qingchen smiled and stretched out her hand: "Just call me Rafael."

During dinner, the four of them sat around the table, and the atmosphere was a bit dull and awkward. Han Yi and Mars occasionally chatted about the situation in the town, but Hong Tu was still the same taciturn.

In the early morning, he had no appetite because his head was always aching. He lost his mind and quietly looked at the person opposite. The person's hands were very beautiful, with slender and strong fingers, and he held the knife and fork very elegantly. Weird, but not annoying.

He looked at the raw tomato on the dinner plate, and he felt that this person didn't like to eat it. Sure enough, he never touched it from the beginning to the end.

Han Ziye also has no appetite.

This plan has been prepared for half a year, repeatedly confirmed with the doctor, evaluated the state in the morning, thought about countless possibilities, and made countless plans.

But now, sitting across from him less than two meters away, Han Ziye tried hard to keep his gaze away from Qingchen, exhausting all his restraint.

Han Qingchen felt that she was always meeting new neighbors recently.

I met him when I was walking in the morning. I met him while shopping in a small town. One day it was raining and he didn’t bring an umbrella. As a result, he happened to pass by with an umbrella when he came out of the gallery door.

I don’t know why every time I’m with him in the morning, I feel a mixed feeling. I’m a little nervous, but I’m looking forward to it. The new neighbor doesn’t talk much, and his face is often expressionless, but in the morning, I can always feel that he is gentle and treats me well. A kind of careful cherishment.

Saying goodbye at the door on a rainy day, seeing his back in the morning, one shoulder was soaked, and my heart beat for a long time for some reason.

Recently, the headache attacks have become more frequent. The doctor prescribed new medicine for him, so he slept more.

In the morning, Han Yi knocked on the door of his room: "Are you awake? Mars is waiting for you downstairs."

In the early morning, she promised to put on her sportswear, hurried down the stairs, and couldn't help laughing when she saw the figure of the man sitting on the sofa: "Morning Mars."

The man nodded, with no expression on his face, but looking into his eyes in the morning, you could tell that he was also very happy. Recently, the two often made appointments to take a walk together in the morning.

"Actually, if you want to run, I can also accompany you. The doctor said that I also need to do some exercise."

I can't help but look at him secretly in the early morning. Although there is no age on his face, his figure looks very young. Although he is a little thin, he has strong muscles and a pair of long legs that are strong and straight.He matched the speed of the early morning, and the two walked slowly up the hill in the park,

"Wait a little longer, we'll run again when your body recovers."

He seems to know that he has no hearing in his left ear, and he always walks on his right. When the environment is noisy, he will gently approach his ear when speaking.

That kind of quiet indifference is covered with a warm and gentle feeling, which makes Qingchen's heart very excited.

"What are you busy with today?" Ziye asked, his face flushed suddenly in the morning as if he had been caught, and he pretended to stop to catch his breath.

"I have a painting to frame today, and it will be fine."

Ziye hesitated, and gently held Qingchen's hand.

"Just a little more and we'll be at the top of the mountain, come on."

In the early morning, his heart was beating violently, a sweetness he had never felt before, accompanied by a headache that ran through his body, he looked at the big slender hand that was holding him tightly, and couldn't help but shake it back. The palms that were equally nervous and sweaty were pressed together tightly.