miss you like the wind

It was a Saturday in September, and nothing had changed except for a flock of black-winged migratory birds in the sky.I looked out the window at the tired building and the foot-high jet of water pouring out of the garden, and let out an inaudible sigh.

There was chaos in the classroom, laughter kept coming and going, most of the writing on the blackboard was wiped out, and ugly patterns were redrawn with colored chalk, skulls, pig heads, or monsters covered in horns.Apparently, the Mid-Autumn Festival holiday, which we are looking forward to day and night, is already exciting enough for those of us high school students who are like birds in a cage.

But I couldn't find any reason to be happy. A vacation meant packing up and going home, and every time the word "go home" crossed my mind, it caused spasms.

So I slowed down the action of tidying up the books, took out my mobile phone and checked the time. It was [-]:[-]. The students in other classes on this floor had left an hour ago, and we, as a "demonstration class", had to go to the School was over at the stipulated time, so it was delayed until now.

This is also good, but it will be much more calm to leave later, and you don't have to endure the chaos of the entire campus.

It is conceivable that thousands of people crowded the stairs and the school gate together was a spectacular scene. In addition to the crowd intertwined like a ball of wool, there were also cars of various brands and rickshaws passing through it, honking their horns.There are security personnel in uniform maintaining order at the intersection to prevent accidents.

At this time, I would sit in my seat and read a book like a century-old clock, waiting patiently for the crowd to disperse.Until there are only a few people left in the entire campus, the slender shadows move in the setting sun, singing the desolation of the end of the song.

But this time, just as I was about to pick up a novel by Pasternak, the phone buzzed and vibrated.It prompts that a qq friend sent me a message.

When I clicked it, it was a stranger.

"Beauty, can you take me home later? It's not easy to hail a taxi here, and I don't want to walk back"

I couldn't help laughing, this man must be sick, and I don't know him.I wanted to leave it alone, but I was born with a curiosity, so I couldn't help but reply him.

"Student, who are you?"

Soon, there was a response over there, as if I had already guessed that I would ask this question.

"I'm Ye Zhaonan from Class [-], Grade [-], do you remember, we are old classmates?"

So I started to search my memory bank like a carpet, Ye Zhaonan, Ye Zhaonan... Ah, it seems that there is such a name that has crossed my ears.

But it is like a falling object flashing by under the action of gravity, which only briefly casts a shallow shadow on the surface of the memory, but the entity cannot be recognized. Once it is left for too long, it is equivalent to never existing.

"I remember, but I don't remember what you look like"

"It's okay, I'll remember it after seeing you a few more times. For the sake of my old classmate, can you just give me a ride? My house is not far away."

"This... all right, come and find me"

"Okay, I know which class you are in, just wait for me there"

I still don't know why I agreed to meet that person at that time. I have to say a reason, maybe it's just a nice name.In the dark, there are always some people that you are destined to be unable to get rid of.

While waiting for him, I flipped through the class photos on his personal homepage. In the album called "Us in Class Nine, Grade Three", there are many faces that I don't remember.

Memories flooded in. I was still familiar with the classroom with the big iron gate, the wooden tables and chairs painted with red lacquer, the big characters on the back blackboard—"[-] days before the senior high school entrance examination" and the famous quotes used as composition materials.

There are also those immature smiling faces that have not been destroyed by time, they are too bright, I rubbed those images back and forth with my fingertips, they are so close to me, only separated by a mobile phone screen, but so far away, there are two long years boundaries.

My palms became wet and sticky. I am not a nostalgic person, I just feel incredible about the illusion created by time.

At this time, I found that the figure in the background of one of the photos was somewhat familiar. It was a vague silhouette facing the west window, with a pea green Japanese blouse, cropped trousers showing a part of the ankle, and was covered by long hair. The half-occupied face faces the spring sunshine, and a large white daffodil blooms beside her.

Because the focus is not aligned, the picture is more like a feather pecked by a chick, soft and light.

Double-click to zoom in, and take another look. The more I look, the more I feel that I have hit a certain point in my memory. Who is it?Suddenly, an answer came to mind, ah, that person turned out to be me.

I couldn't laugh or cry, after all, it was a photo taken a long time ago, and I almost forgot that there was such a costume and posture.At that time, I looked really plain, with clothes that made my figure thinner, a face that didn't stick to makeup, and long and dense black hair.

And that lazy look that seems to be out of the world is still exactly the same as the current Su Ruojin.

I flipped through the photo album a few times, and I was puzzled again. Why did I exist in each of the nearly [-] photos, and they were all incomplete and blurred.

Or fiddling with something in the corner of the second-to-last row, or a white figure walking away, or half of a body leaning into the camera, or biting a pen holder against the wall to solve a problem.In short, this [-]% appearance rate cannot be a coincidence at all...

Just as I was thinking about this with my chin in my hand, footsteps came from the empty teaching building. At first it was an urgent thud on the stairs. The pace seems to be brewing an unknown secret.

As I expected, the next person who appeared at the door of the classroom was that person, Ye Zhaonan.