Blade of Wind

I'm not a very good drinker, and I'm not actually an alcoholic.I just like the feeling of bliss when I have a few drinks with my friends and get a little drunk.

When she is three points drunk, Ruhua can be regarded as a beauty, not to mention Shang Long is a handsome guy.

I nestled on the soft couch, and through my drunkenness, I watched the handsome guy look unscrupulous.

Shang Long didn't care about my gaze. Instead, he squinted at me and said with a light smile, "I almost forgot. I still have a bill to ask you for."

"Huh?" I blinked and became more conscious, "What account?"

Shang Long walked around the little table on the couch, and approached me, "I remember someone said they wanted to repay me?"

His body is tall and strong, and when he came close, the space on the soft couch seemed crowded. I couldn't help but move back and frowned: "Did I say that?"

"Tsk, you want to renege on the debt?" Shang Long clicked his lips and reached out to caress my face, "You are not joking."

－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－

Harmonious and mighty!

Some XXXX adults are mighty!

Goodbye broths.

The old rules, the old text is replaced, please give me a password to ask for private information!

The secret signal this time is... "Xiao Liutai catches the rape, Qiao Aao cuts off the bully."

－－－－－－－

"The Orioles Fly and the Grass Grows" was published in Shinkansen Novels in 06

She was sixteen or seventeen years old at the time, a very ordinary girl, quiet, well-behaved, often inexplicably sad, occasionally smiling, like a breeze blowing across the water, the ripples disappeared from her lips.

Her sorrow stems from her inability to know what to do.Like many teenagers, studying, taking exams, going to school, and going home, other than that, I was at a loss.Simple, back and forth, life is like a silent black-and-white short film that is played repeatedly, so empty that it is almost numb.

Later, he appeared.

With a "wow", she was stunned. It turns out that the world also has sounds, flowers have colors, blood has temperature, and tears hurt when they fall.

It was a summer day, a tree-lined path on campus.

She held a few books and walked from one end of the path to the other. When she raised her head inadvertently, he entered her field of vision, and the sunlight bloomed leaf by leaf in her eyes in an instant.

He wore a white shirt and black trousers that day, very ordinary attire, but there was a kind of charm that made people confuse when he wore it, or, she thought, it was because he had such a pair of arrogant and unruly eyes.

He was not there alone that day. In front of him stood a girl with her head slightly lowered. She held an envelope-like object in both hands and handed it to him. The distance was too far for her to hear their words clearly. Such a scene, you can probably guess what it is.

He raised his eyebrows, didn't even take off the earplugs, his eyes flicked across the envelope, his lips parted, there were probably only one or two words, and then he walked away.He is tall and has long legs, but within a second or two, he has disappeared at the other end of the path.

The girl stood there for a long while, Fang lowered her hand in a shy way, and walked towards her, as if she didn't see anyone here, and bumped into her shoulder directly.The book in her hand fell to the floor.The girl was taken aback for a moment, then hurriedly apologized, and squatted down to help her pick it up.

She also said it was okay, squatting down to pick up her book, and when she pinched the edge of the same book with both hands, she felt two drops of warm liquid dripping on the back of her hand, accompanied by a crisp And a small voice.

She raised her eyes and looked at the girl opposite.

The girl noticed her gaze, stood up, wiped the back of her hand in front of her eyes, and showed a self-deprecating smile, "You see, you were rejected. In fact, it's a matter of course, such an excellent Boy, why do you like me?"

She smiled lightly and said nothing.

The girl returned the book she picked up, waved her hand, and walked away.

She hugged her book tightly and looked at the other end.

On that day, she wrote in her diary: In March of Yangchun, warblers fly and grass grows.

From that day on, she began to pay attention to him.

His name, his class, his preferences, his friends.

In her world, wherever he walked, it was like a spring breeze, with green grass growing little by little, and red flowers blooming, and the spring was radiant.

However, those two warm sensations on the back of her hand always remind her how painful it is when tears fall down.

She has never been a brave person, so she just stood behind him and watched from a distance.

All the way to spring.

Thorns along the way.

In the afternoon, the sun was shining brightly, and strands of slender clouds floated up in the blue sky, like ripples on the water.

She took a stack of exercise books to the teacher's office. The shadow of the sun moved and dripped on her face from the gaps in the leaves. She frowned slightly and turned her face sideways.

Then I saw him.

Her footsteps stopped.

He was in a public class, two classes together, sitting in a large trapezoidal classroom, his seat was next to the window, the penultimate row.

He was obviously not listening to the class, he propped his head on his left hand, leaned against the window lightly, and held a ballpoint pen in his right hand, drawing casually on the desk.

Finally, he raised his head and looked out the window.

Under the sea of ​​fine pieces, such a pair of eyes.

He saw her.

When she thinks this way, it feels like all the sunlight is focused on her alone, that kind of hot feeling.She blushed at that moment, quickly lifted up a stack of exercise books, and hurriedly walked forward a few steps.

After passing a lush camphor tree, I couldn't help but turn around and take another look.

He sat there, his expression didn't change much, he still propped his chin with his hands, and looked out the window lightly.

There is no focus in the eyes, and they are idle and wandering.

He didn't see her, did he?She breathed a sigh of relief, she probably wouldn't see her in the future.

As she continued to move forward, she couldn't tell clearly whether it was the luck of not being discovered, or the loss of not being discovered.

He turned around again, took a sneak peek, and made a note of where he was sitting.

Because the next class, their class is also a public class, and it is also that classroom.

Arriving at that classroom early, she looked over nervously.

Next to the window, the penultimate row.

nobody.

So she breathed a sigh of relief, rejected the classmates who wanted to sit in the front row with her, walked over, and sat down.

My heart seemed to be filled with something, and it began to beat thumpingly.

This is the place he sat in the previous class, the chair he sat in, the window he leaned against.

She took out the textbook, put it on the table, and then saw what he had drawn on the table.

Traces of the blue ballpoint pen, a few slanted lines, high notes, black dots on the lines, and some scattered meaningless smears.

Is that a stave?

She frowned slightly, her fingers stroked the tabletop, and her slightly longer nails scratched the wood texture, leaving a soft creaking sound.When she raised her hand, her fingertips were stained with blue ink, rippling along her fingerprints in circles.

She copied down the line notation on the table and recorded it in her diary.

When there is no one in the night, he hums softly.

Or, she and he have something in common.

Humming that tune, she thought, with a touch of joy.

The love hovering in the deepest part of her heart spread out with the sound, and an unspeakable vibration slid over her skin, hair, bones and meridians, and her eyes softened involuntarily.

The melody turned into his name, echoing again and again in the silence.

That day she went to school as usual, with her head slightly lowered, but she was in a good mood.She hummed the short melody softly.

He rode a bicycle, swished past her, and then stopped in front of her.

She was startled by the sharp friction between the tires and the ground when she braked suddenly, she subconsciously took a step back, and then she looked up and saw his face.

He straddled the bicycle, still wearing white clothes and black pants, but with a surprised expression on his face, he looked at her.

She blushed, lowered her head, and her black hair hung down to cover her eyes, only to hear him asking, "What were you singing just now?"

his voice.

As clear as pearls and jade, it travels densely through her flustered emotions.

She took another step back and replied in a low voice, "No...it's nothing."

He was quiet for a while, said "Oh", and rode his bicycle away again.

She stood by the side of the road and looked at his back, hating her cowardice for the first time.

Mingming should meet his gaze with a smile, and answer his question loudly, "Yes, that's your song. I'm singing your song."

But she couldn't.

When he saw her, she was overwhelmed with nervousness.

What's more, she has seen him reject people, so indifferent, so decisive.

Looking at the trace of the sudden brake on the ground, I just felt that something came out of it, sprouted, branched, and bloomed.

Glamorous, enchanting, seductive.

A flower full of thorns.

As soon as you stretch out your hand, you will be bloody.

So she retreated, bypassed, and walked back to her fixed route.

Another close contact is the exam.

All the classes in a grade were disrupted and scattered, and she and him happened to be assigned to the same examination room.

The chemistry test only took about ten minutes before he stood up, took his papers, and walked to the podium.When she passed her position, she turned her eyes slightly and saw that his exam paper was blank except for his name and multiple choice questions.

He put the test paper on the podium and walked out. The invigilator stopped him, "This student, you can wait at least half an hour before leaving the test room."

His beautiful eyes slanted over, his gaze was cold, "Sorry, I don't have much time to waste here."

The teacher froze, so he went out.

And she no longer had the heart to think about exams, not to mention chemistry was her weak subject, so she hurriedly finished the questions she knew how to do, and handed in the paper.

The campus during the exam was so quiet that even the chirping of insects and birds seemed to be deliberately broadcast through a loudspeaker.

And the chords of the guitar are like sounds of nature in this quietness.

She walked away.

He was sitting under a tree, holding a half-worn guitar in his hand, flicking it lightly with his slender fingers, lowering his head slightly, lowering his eyes slightly, and singing softly.

The sun sifted through the gaps in the leaves, casting countless fine spots on his body, which made his eyes look at the guitar affectionately, like ice cracking in the sun, showing the clarity and tenderness of the first melting of spring water.

She stood behind the tree and listened quietly.

Until he drew the last note on the guitar strings, then raised his head, looked at her position, and asked, "How?"

She was startled, it turned out that he had already discovered the existence of her audience.

So she stood up, suppressed her rapid heartbeat, and smiled slightly, "It sounds good."

He laughed too, and lowered his head again, his fingers lightly brushed across the strings, and under the sea of ​​fine pieces, the outline that was usually ice-like was warm and soft, like a pool of spring water, slowly soaking at the corners of his mouth.

He said: "In another week, I am going to participate in the competition, which is the first step towards my dream. Before that, it is great that someone is willing to be my audience."

After he finished speaking, he began to play and sing again.

There is a passage that is a melody she has long been familiar with.

She was startled for a moment, wondering for a moment whether he intended to sing to her, but his eyes were only on the piano in his hand, his face was as still as water.

She bit her lower lip lightly, leaned against the tree behind her, and was only the quietest listener.

Seeing him playing the guitar, she felt a sense of soreness in her heart, then she lowered her head slightly and looked at the back of her hand.

There, someone once shed two tears on it.

She once felt the pain of those two tears.

It turned out that he didn't mean to hurt others intentionally, but he already had his own heart.

His whole heart, even his whole being, had been given to music.

No time to look around.

From that day on, she began to write to him.

Use a variety of stationery with pretty skies.

Write lots and lots of words.

Her bits and pieces, or, his bits and pieces.

It was sealed in a snow-white envelope, and his name was written neatly on it.

Then, put it in its own drawer and lock it.

There was no contact between them, and half a year passed like this.

On the eve of graduation.

As if they suddenly realized that they had to divide their things, everything was put aside, and the only thing left was parting.The classmates were busy writing the address book, making appointments to have dinner together, and even more exaggerated, they hugged each other and cried together.

She avoided everyone, carried a big bag, and walked to the most remote corner of the campus.

She squatted down and opened the bag, revealing a pack full of snow-white envelopes, and his name was written squarely on each envelope.

She took out one, like holding a ceremony, put it tremblingly on her lips, kissed it lightly, then took out a lighter, lit it, watched the flame slowly licking up, watched The snow-white envelope turned red and black due to burning, and then became gray and white fragments that drifted away in the wind.

One, another.

She slowly stacked all the letters in the bag one by one.

The flames rushed up, and the gray and white fragments flew like butterflies.

She stood up, a smile on her lips.

He was her flash of light this season, the most perfect phantom she could have imagined.

Therefore, she burned all these to ashes and hid them in her heart, even he couldn't know.

She stood by, watched the last wisp of green smoke dissipate, and then left.

She thought, he would never know that on a certain summer afternoon, in her heart, it was like spring and March, when warblers flew and grass grew.

The author has something to say: Look... Consummated...

In fact, it didn't seem to be arranged here at first...but Ah Ao jumped out and cut off the bullshit!It's all his fault!

By the way, let me advertise~

Jigsaw New Year's Special Story

please join us

Many girls responded to me that they could not find the files in their mailboxes...

I……

In the online disk, girls!You have to get used to opening every folder and looking at it like playing RPG exploration~