back to innocence

After Fei Zhiming came back, he saw his wife and son sitting on the sofa in the living room, and his wife was still reading with a thick stack of manuscript paper. He couldn't help being very surprised.

He asked the two of them, "What is this doing?"

Fei Yizhen raised his head and looked at his young father, who was holding a briefcase and looked like an elite. As expected, he saw the data elf jumped out of the extremely high reading preference data.

He remembered that his father had been a fan of his Weibo for two years before, and he could tell whether it was his Weibo tone or not, and how he abruptly dug out his sexual orientation and identity from Weibo. The perseverance of the actual dynamic, I can't help but think, did my father read all his published works at that time?

Then he heard Chen Xueyan reply: "The novel my son wrote at home these two days. Don't tell me, although it looks a bit whimsical, it's really well written. Even I can't stop reading it."

Fei Zhiming immediately became interested, and said, "A novel written by my son? Well, show it to me."

Fei Yizhen had never seen his parents read his works face to face, and Chen Xueyan was fine with that. Her mother was always gentle and gentle, and occasionally showed a little childishness, which did not make Fei Yizhen feel in awe.It was his father, probably because of his success in his career, he naturally had an imposing manner on him, Fei Yizhen always felt a little ashamed when he saw his work.

He began to lower his head to concentrate on eating the apple, pretending not to see that Fei's father and mother were exchanging his stories.

Fei Zhiming has only read the first chapter, and he has already taken Fei Yizhen with admiration.He knows that his son's Chinese is good, and he has always been praised by the teacher.But when he opened the manuscript paper, the text he saw was very mature and refined, it didn't look like it was written by a child at all. Even the calligraphy seemed to be more refined than the last time he saw it. There are [-]% similarities, and Fei Zhiming knows that his son has been sitting at home writing non-stop for the past few days, so he will not believe that this story was written by Fei Yizhen.

In fact, Fei Zhiming didn't know, if it wasn't for Fei Yizhen's lack of practice in handwriting because of typing all the year round, his handwriting would definitely be more like a 12-year-old middle school student.

Fei Zhiming continued to read.

He spends a lot of time reading books, newspapers and documents, and the densely packed words can be understood with just a quick glance, so he can read faster than Chen Xueyan.After a while, he took the manuscript in Chen Xueyan's hand and read it first, but Chen Xueyan started to pick up the rest of him and read it.

By the time Fei Zhiming finished reading the whole story, it was already dark, long past the family's usual meal time.After reading the whole story, Fei Zhiming pulled Fei Yizhen over, patted him on the shoulder, and said, "Although I know you're always on your mind, I didn't expect you to think so much. Yes, the story is well written. Even my dad thinks it's pretty. But you're only 12 years old, how can you write about people's loves and loves so clearly? Do you have any little girls who like school?"

Fei Yizhen sighed suddenly, if only he could like little girls.

He shook his head and said, "I don't have a girl I like. The love story in the story is just based on the novels I usually watch and make up according to the normal situation."

Chen Xueyan said: "Don't think too much, he's only 12 years old, he hasn't reached puberty yet, he knows what love is. It's probably just that he watched too much TV, so he wrote it casually. The child has a flexible mind, what's wrong? "

Fei Yizhen suddenly felt guilty.

He is in a calm mood now, but at this time in the past, he was really in love, and he had been secretly in love with the boy in the same class for a long time.

After hearing his explanation, Fei Zhiming didn't bother about it, and just continued to ask: "Then what are you going to do next? This story is so well written, do you plan to send it out for submission? Have you ever done anything like this?"

Fei Yizhen nodded and said, "I want to contribute, but I haven't decided where to submit it yet."

He is telling the truth. The Shuangye Publishing House he signed with must not have been established yet. Qi Wentang is still in junior high school and will be sent abroad by his father to study next year. Fei Yizhen is very concerned about the next steps for his manuscript. There is absolutely no plan on which one to marry - he can't wait for Futaba to be established seven or eight years later before publishing.

Fei Zhiming nodded and said, "If you don't have any ideas, Dad knows a few people in the publishing industry. How about I help you show some uncles? If they think it's okay, then Dad will tell you what to do." Take you to talk to them?"

Fei Yizhen naturally had great confidence in himself, and also had great trust in Fei Zhiming, so he answered "yes" right away.

The next day was Saturday, so Fei Yi really had to go to his painting teacher for class.

After giving up painting for many years, Fei Yizhen has almost forgotten that he still has the job of learning painting, and suddenly resumed his old job, which has a lot of freshness and nostalgia.

He almost doesn't remember the name of the painting teacher, but he only remembers that she seemed to be a little famous in this area at that time.Fei Yizhen still remembers the name of the gifted child who was always sitting on his left and was praised by the painting teacher all the time - after he became famous, he met that person once at a certain industry party, and at that time the other party had already become He wanted to be a famous painter, and when he met, he looked at him like an old friend whom he hadn't seen for many years. His hypocrisy made Fei Yizhen feel like old friends at first sight.

Returning to this year, Fei Yi really has no objection to the other party's constant pressure on him by the painting teacher, after all, he already knows that his talent is not here.

He even took the initiative to say hello to the other party: "Good morning, Ye Minghe."

"Good morning!" Ye Minghe replied with a surprised expression.

In fact, speaking of it, there was no conflict between them, it was just that Fei Yizhen was unilaterally jealous and refused to admit defeat, putting on a noble and glamorous look.Now that I think about it, they have become famous after more than ten years, and it turned out that they have known each other for a long time, but because of the child's little thought, they never developed a friendship, which is still a pity.

Fei Yi really let go of his mind and suddenly felt much more comfortable. He thought that turning back his time was not just for him to relive his youth and avoid detours.

The painting teacher had already appeared in the classroom, Fei Yizhen calmed down and began to look at the blackboard.The theme of their painting today is still still life——Fei Yizhen still remembers that the theme of their painting last year was basically still life, and this year occasionally some other themes appeared, but most of the time they still focused on still life .

That is to say, from this year onwards, Ye Minghe and Fei Yizhen gradually differentiated themselves in this field.

The theme of the day was a cluster of bright flowers in a standing vase.Fei Yizhen took a look at the layers of blooming flowers, and then at Ye Minghe who was sitting on his left.

Ye Minghe looked at the vase of flowers seriously, with a pencil in his hand, he had already begun to draw the outline.

He has been like this since before, he will concentrate on picking up a paintbrush, and will not be distracted by anything easily.He can be said to be very talented in painting. Even without the help of the data wizard, Fei Yizhen had expected the absolutely outstanding painting talent in him.

Sure enough.

SS level painting talent, this is Ye Minghe.Fei Yizhen had competed with him for so many years based on his honed painting skills, but now that he thinks about it, he is really comparing his own weaknesses with others' strengths, and he is overconfident.

Ye Minghe's paintings have always been smooth in brush strokes and extremely beautiful in tone.It not only has the original bright and bright oil painting, but also has his unique style, with soft, smooth and textured brushstrokes.

Fei Yizhen thinks about it now, the more he painted, the worse it was because he always wanted to imitate Ye Minghe's paintings that make people feel solemn, elegant, peaceful and beautiful, but painting tigers is not an anti-dog, and the final state It got worse and worse, and finally gave up painting because of too much psychological pressure.

Now he does not regard oil painting as a lifelong ideal to study, and he has less mental pressure. After many years, he picks up the brush again. Except for the rustiness at the beginning, the painting becomes smoother and smoother.

At the end, he was halfway through coloring, and immediately surprised the painting teacher who came to check the progress, and asked, "Fei Yizhen, what color... are you painting?"

On Fei Yizhen's drawing paper, only the vase is gray-yellow, and except for the black shadows mixed in, the whole picture is dark red, light red and dark red.That style is so strong that it makes people feel uncomfortable.

The teacher's question attracted most of the attention in the studio, even Ye Minghe looked up at Fei Yizhen's drawing paper.

Fei Yi said truthfully: "I think there is something wrong with my sense of color matching, so I simply used a simpler color matching method. Is this not okay?"

"You are not proficient in color matching, so you should learn it slowly. It is a trick for you to use color matching like this, and it can be regarded as a style, but is it good for your color sense?"

But Fei Yi really knew that his color sense would not improve much, knowing that after three or four years, his color matching style would always be a lot worse than Ye Minghe... no, not even a lot.Some things, after all, still require talent, not rote memorization, and repeated practice can achieve success.

He could only find another way.

Then he heard Ye Minghe say: "I think this is very interesting and pretty."

Fei Yizhen turned around and replied, "Thank you."

The teacher sighed, and said, "Since it's almost done this time, forget it. Next time, we should honestly paint in the normal way."

Fei Yizhen smiled at her and didn't make any promises.

The painting teacher only thought he was shy, turned his head to see Ye Minghe's progress, nodded at him and walked away.

Fei Yizhen turned around and looked at his work.

As an oil painting, especially as a still life sketch, this painting is of course unqualified.

However, if you look at this painting as an illustration for a novel ten years later, it is a very good illustration with a very dark style.

As soon as the painting teacher left, he added a pool of dark red slowly flowing down to the back wall, and then used a pencil to draw a piece of note paper and a pen on the blank space on the lower left that had not been colored.

Nothing was written on the sticky note, just a pretty, red lip imprint.

Ye Minghe watched him finish all this, and said, "It feels like I saw a story full of suspense."

Fei Yizhen immediately turned his head and smiled brightly at Ye Minghe - isn't he just drawing a story?After studying painting for many years, his talent is not here after all.

Even picking up a paintbrush, he is only good at painting a story, not a landscape.

Ye Minghe said: "I always feel that you are a little different today? Are you in a good mood?"

Fei Yizhen said: "Because," he said truthfully, "I finally found that I don't need to care about not being able to catch up with you no matter how hard I try."

Ye Minghe was stunned. He blinked and asked, "Did you care a lot before?"

"I care so much. I care so much that... I can hardly sleep."

In the last year of painting, his anxiety became more and more serious.The severe anxiety and frustration not only broke his spirit, but also his body.He couldn't sleep well, couldn't eat, and his hands even trembled when he picked up the paintbrush. No matter how many paintings he drew, he couldn't help but want to tear them up and tear them up.

...Until the end, under the double anxiety, Fei's father and Fei's mother finally decided not to let him study oil painting.

Fei Yi really didn't want to give up. He insisted on his self-esteem and refused to admit defeat, but he knew that he really had no talent. At that time, he was not jealous of Ye Minghe, but to the point of bitter hatred.

Thinking about it now, he was really stubborn back then.

Ye Minghe didn't speak for a while, and finally said: "Actually, you draw well."

He seldom praises others. Fei Yi really knows that although Ye Minghe doesn't like to look at people out of the corner of his eyes like him, he naturally has his own kind of pride. Ordinary people he doesn't look down on, even if it's just for politeness. , he will not praise.

So this consolation seems a little rare.

Fei Yizhen said, "Thank you!"

He is not really 12 years old, naturally he already knew that his level stopped at that level.However, for Ye Minghe, who is the same age as his body, this is already a well-meaning consolation.

Fei Yi really felt that he had no reason to be ungrateful.

Ye Minghe laughed and said, "If you don't mind, let me help you refer to how to match colors next time, okay?"

Fei Yi was stunned for a moment, and then thought that he would not follow his own temper like this time next time. Even if he wanted to develop something different, he couldn't directly annoy the teacher. If Ye Minghe wanted to It's not a bad thing for him to use as a reference, at least next week's color matching will be much easier for him.

He said, "OK."

Ye Minghe laughed again, it was the first time that Fei Yizhen discovered that the future great painter loves to laugh so much.

Then he saw Ye Minghe's fingers lightly slid across the palette on his easel, stained with a hint of red.Ye Minghe wiped the paint from his fingertips to the edge of his palette as if nothing had happened, and then picked up the brush again.

On his easel, a clump of brightly colored flowers is quietly blooming.