Fire fighting

In the past few days, Yan Qing ran to the fire station whenever he was free, and brought a painting to Xiang Rong every day. High return.

Today was going to be a bottle, so Yan Qing casually found a reason and explained to Xiang Rong that he would go tomorrow.

Wen Yi knew that he wanted to draw with his right hand, so she tied it on his left hand for him. When looking for blood vessels, she found that Yan Qing's hand was whiter than her own.

"Your skin is too white, whiter than mine, you can see blood vessels at a glance."

Yan Qing lowered his head to look, such a comparison showed that Wen Yi's complexion was indeed darker.

He comforted and said, "This is an unhealthy color for me, and yours is normal white."

Wen Yi checked her hands repeatedly, pursing her lips: "I've been tanned these days, so I still need to take good care of it."

"You are not black," Yan Qing said, "You stand together with brother Jiang Ce and you are so white."

Wen Yi chuckled: "He is so dark, who wants to compare with him? He trains against the sun every day, so it's not surprising that he is so dark."

"That's not necessarily true. Brother Xiang Rong also came here in the same way, but his skin color is similar to yours. Sister Wen Yi, you have to be more confident, you are the most beautiful nurse I have ever seen."

"It's just your sweet mouth," Wen Yi smiled and rolled his eyes at him, and asked, "You spend less time painting and take a rest when you have time."

"I will," Yan Qing said, "I will draw the last one."

Knowing that he would not listen to persuasion, Wen Yi had nothing to do with him, so she left and closed the door.

The ward was quiet, the grandmother in the next bed was reading, and Yan Qing was drawing.

In the past few days, the frequency of the customer named "Macy's Introductory Room Apprentice" has dropped a lot, but he proposed to increase Yan Qing's price from 5 yuan to 10 yuan a piece.

It was the first time Yan Qing met a guest who made such a request, and he refused to accept it, but the other party insisted on giving it. After pushing and pushing like this, Yan Qing bit the bullet and accepted it.

The light rain continued, but Yan Qing was not affected. He knew exactly what color tones could be produced by dipping the pen in his hand on the palette, and then smearing it on the paper.

Every time he sits in a ventilated place to paint, the first is that the paint dries quickly, and the second is that he doesn't want to cause olfactory troubles to the grandmother next door.

But the old man never disliked the strong taste of his paints, and even came to watch him paint today.

Yan Qing was so absorbed in painting that he didn't notice grandma's approach. When he finished the last stroke, he looked up and saw grandma and was shocked.

He took a breath and said loudly: "Grandma, you don't read anymore?"

Grandma shook her head, her eyes were full of kindness, and she pointed at the drawing board, as if asking, "Are you still drawing?"

"Yes," Yan Qing smiled brightly, "Work hard to make money!"

Work hard to earn money.

Then buy grandma a hearing aid.

This is a wish he wants to fulfill recently.

Yan Qing put away the finished painting and asked, "Grandma, didn't Beibei say he would come to see you today? When will he come?"

Grandma slowly wrote on Yan Qing's hand: "His father is busy with work and has no time to send him here."

It was that man again. Since the old man was hospitalized, he brought Bei Bei to see him once.

Yan Qing didn't like him.

"Grandma, I've been running to the fire station these days, are you alone?"

Grandma shook her head, then pointed to the book in her hand, indicating that she was with her and she was not lonely.

Yan Qing glanced at the cover, the title of the book was "Walk to the Edge of Life".

Grandma loves to read, Yan Qing discovered this, maybe she can't play with electronic products, reading is the only pastime in this boring ward, maybe she loves to read naturally, Yan Qing doesn't know.

"Grandma, I want to ask you a question."

He couldn't help but lower his voice, and when he realized that grandma didn't hear him, he raised the volume again: "Can I ask you a question?"

Grandma nodded kindly.

Yan Qing thought about this question for a long time, and he also thought about it for a long time, but he couldn't find the answer after much deliberation, but he felt that grandma was a knowledgeable person who could help him answer questions.

He plucked up the courage to ask: "I recently met a friend who was very kind to me and helped me fulfill many wishes. I always couldn't help but want to get close to him, but I always felt that I did something wrong. After all, sooner or later I will Leaving him, am I, am I being too selfish?"

Grandma patted his head and smoothed the ends of his bristling hair. Every stroke was written carefully and fell into the palm of Yan Qing's hand.

"My child, you are not selfish, you are very kind, we have lived together for so long, I have never met your parents, so it is your instinct to find someone to accompany you, you don't need to be so strong, and you don't need to be so Be independent, you are, and it's not your fault for wanting to have a friend."

"But if I provoke him for the sake of happiness now, he will be sad after I leave."

As soon as Yan Qing thought of such a scene, disappointment welled up in his heart.

"You can't choose to avoid beginnings in order to avoid endings," Grandma told him. "If you stop planting a flower because it's going to wither, then spring is gone. Everything comes and goes, and the end doesn't matter, it matters." What's more is the beautiful process in the middle. If the person you're talking about cherishes this relationship as much as you do, he will care about everything about you and accept everything about you, from head to toe, from beginning to end."

Yan Qing seemed to understand but half understood: "Since everything has life and death, what is the meaning of life?"

Grandma was slightly taken aback, and took out a piece of sweet-scented osmanthus cake from the side, handed it to Yan Qing, and beckoned him to eat it.

Yan Qing saw the pastry on his lips and couldn't help but took a bite.

Seeing him eating happily, grandma smiled: "Son, will you be sad because you finished eating a piece of sweet-scented osmanthus cake?"

Yan Qing shook his head blankly.

"That's because the sweet-scented osmanthus cake left a good taste on your taste buds, isn't it?" Grandma wiped the residue from the corner of Yan Qing's mouth with her hand, "The sweet-scented osmanthus cake won't last forever, but it brings you satisfaction, you Also had the opportunity to taste it and look forward to eating another piece."

Yan Qing swallowed the pastry in his mouth, and vaguely understood the meaning of the words.

"Meaning is an illusory concept, but the beauty in life is priceless. Eating a bowl of steaming noodles, reading a novel with a wonderful story, a rainbow after the rain, the shouting of the evening market, including the new tone on your drawing board The paint that comes out, to love the person you want to love, to be with the person who wants to be with you, this is the meaning of life.”

Grandma held Yan Qing's hand, and the silent room was filled with warmth.

"Don't be afraid that the flower will wither, at least it once bloomed."

Looking at the fleeting words that fell on his hands, Yan Qing seemed to be taken out of his wits: "Grandma, I seem to understand."

Grandma gave him a thumbs up: "Did you forget that we said last time that we will live to 99? Now the level of medical care is much better, and you still have a long time, so you can do whatever you want."

"Okay!" Yan Qing seemed to see the sun through the clouds, and everything seemed to have hope.

He picked up the paintbrush from the side again and said, "Grandma, let me draw you a picture, just take it as a little bit of my heart."

Grandma smiled and agreed.

Yan Qing had a very relaxed day. He took a good nap and had a good dinner. Seeing the rising amount in his account, he opened the medical mall with joy, shopped around, and finally chose the one with a little over a thousand yuan. Hearing aids, the price is reasonable, and the quality should not be too bad.

It's just that the income in the account is still tens of yuan short, so he decided to catch a few more pictures for customers overnight, so he added the hearing aid to the shopping cart first.

After grandma receives it, she will be very happy. Just thinking about it, Yan Qing couldn't help laughing.

At night, the small lamp was still on, Yan Qing leaned against the head of the bed, his wrists were sore.

The screen of the mobile phone on the side lit up, and a message broke into sight.

Yan Qing casually picked it up, opened it and saw it was an email.

Congratulations on your entry winning this competition.

Yan Qing's heart stopped suddenly, and then beat wildly again in the next second. He rubbed his eyes in disbelief, read it again, tapped his fingers to open the software, and an award notification took over the screen.

That was the competition he had to participate in even if he sneaked out of the hospital after the puncture, and he was scolded by Wen Yi for this.

The top ten are the first prizes, the next 15 are the second prizes, and the last 25 are the third prizes. There are more than [-] applicants, and he is ranked third.

First prize!

With this award, the probability of being admitted to the Academy of Fine Arts of Jiangzhou University will be greatly increased.

Yan Qing widened his eyes, covered his mouth, and froze like a mummy. When he lowered his head, he realized that his motionless hand was holding a paintbrush to dye a blanket of paint.

He was ecstatic, and the joy he wanted to share radiated from his body, and he wished that everyone in the hospital knew the news.

"Grandma, my work won an award..."

The voice stopped abruptly, and only then did he notice that grandma was asleep.

He closed his mouth and picked up his phone to tell Xiang Rong, but he caught a glimpse of a pool of red on grandma's pillow out of the corner of his eye.

The smile stopped, and Yan Qing asked softly, "Grandma, are you alright?"

Did not speak to the bed.

He raised his voice: "Grandma, are you sick again?"

Still no response to the bed.

Yan Qing jumped out of bed and walked over to see that there was indeed blood on the pillow.

He gasped, shook grandma's arm, and kept talking.

"Grandma, wake up, take a look at me..."

Grandma is deaf, she must not have heard, yes, she must not have heard.

Yan Qing's voice became louder, and he frantically slapped the nurse's bell.

The crisp bells echoed in the cold house along with the night rain.

There was a commotion in the hallway, as nurses broke in, pushed patients out of the ward, and rushed to the emergency room.

Yan Qing's eyes were a little fuzzy, he sat back on the bed again, and found the unfinished painting from the sketch.

There is a kind old man in the painting. She is sitting on a rocking chair by the window, wearing presbyopic glasses and holding a book in her hand. The sun shines on her eyebrows and eyes, shining with light.

In her right ear, a hearing aid is plugged.

Yan Qing hasn't finished the drawing yet, he wants to wait for the hearing aids to arrive before giving them together.

But he didn't dare to wait now.

He collected himself, breathed a sigh of relief, and began to write.

One stroke is drawn on the hair, and one stroke is added to the collar.

One stroke after another...

At midnight, he was still drawing.

Wen Yi pushed open the door, her eyes were red and swollen.

Yan Qing looked up, Wen Yi didn't blame him for going to bed late this time.

His voice was soft, like rain falling on dead leaves: "Sister Wen Yi..."

Wen Yi said lightly, "Grandma is gone."

The paintbrush fell on the bed, and Yan Qing picked it up with a trembling hand.

Wen Yi told him: "You rest well, I will take the things on the bed away in a while."

"it is good."

Yan Qing calmly put away the drawing and put it in the drawer, he was puzzled, he was still alive this afternoon, so he left as soon as he said it.

Didn't you say you were going to live to be 99 years old?

He glanced at the medical records by the bedside, and the photos of the old man before his death were pasted on it.

Below the photo is the patient's information, and the name column is filled with Jiang Shu.

Looking at these two words, Yan Qing was in a daze. After living for so long, he found that he didn't even know grandma's name.

Now that the person is gone, what is the point of knowing the name?

The family members rushed over quickly. Yan Qing saw this man for the second time. He was still wearing the uniform of the bus company. Xu Shi had just finished the night shift. As soon as he entered the room, he began to cry loudly. He sat on the ground and couldn’t get up. Holding the bed sheet and clutching the pillow with his right hand, he cried heart-rendingly.

"Mom, my son is not filial..."

This crying lasted for half an hour, Yan Qing saw him distraught, and handed him a piece of paper.

The man took it, blew his nose, and after finishing all his mother's things, he looked back at the ward before leaving.

There are two beds, the one by the window is occupied, and the one by the door is empty.

The man fixed his eyes on the only person in the room. He looked at Yan Qing and sighed.

"Take care of yourself."

Yan Qing didn't speak, but nodded.

After a while, Wen Yi cleaned the room. Neither she nor Yan Qing spoke. She didn't want Yan Qing to think too much, and she was afraid that she might say something wrong. After doing everything in silence, she walked to the door.

"Sister Wen Yi, don't turn off the light." The person on the bed said something.

Wen Yi was taken aback, her body seemed to be passing through an electric current, she responded "OK", before leaving, she said, "Go to bed early."

"Yeah." Yan Qing crawled into bed.

He turned his head and looked out of the window. It was night again outside the window, and the sky was full of stars. He secretly prayed in his heart: "Grandma Jiang, go well."

He turned on the phone and looked at the chat box with Xiang Rong. He wanted to say something, but he didn't want to say anything.

It's my turn next.

The author has something to say:

"In order to avoid the end, you avoid the beginning." From Gu Cheng's "Avoid", invaded and deleted.