[Comprehensive] Jasmine became the queen bee

"I am a fan of the quality of honesty. If everyone possessed this precious quality, 90.00% of the murders would not happen.  …Stop, Watson! You can stop talking about my fake death. Then It's not deception, it's concealment, and there's a big difference in it. After all, not everyone can accept the bloody truth, and some people are born to live in false beauty."

——Excerpt from "Interview with Sherlock Holmes"

As the branches and levels of language become more and more complex together with the development of human society, the efficiency of communication between people is getting lower and lower.For example, Jessica Harris, who was still in front of him just now, used so many synonyms, negative forms of antonyms, inaccurate rhetoric, and repetition of the same word to describe an obvious fact, but only the first two words are really meaningful. Say, "I'm sorry, you're right."

He appreciates this attitude of admitting his mistakes, but it doesn't mean that he can stand here and endure this torture.It's not like when he was in the car just now, he couldn't open the car door and jump out of the car just because of the owner's chatter - now at the gate of his own house, he can turn around and leave at any time.

It's just... Jessica looks sincere, from the fluffy brown hair on top of her head, her slightly dilated pupils, to her gestures from time to time.And he was sure that what she really wanted to talk about was not this, but the incident that happened tonight.

There are still things in his bag that should have been at Raymond's ex-girlfriend. I have to say that every photo is shocking. Even if Jessica only knows a little about these things, she will want to find out. .So he watched her lips open and close, and waited patiently for a long time, but only waited for a satisfied farewell.

Maybe, she wants to talk about it tomorrow?He's not sure.

He didn't want to think about what happened afterwards - a stupid question like a ghost.When two people's IQs are not at the same level, the efficiency of information transmission will drop exponentially, but the problem is that from his point of view, he has tried his best.He tried his best to "clearly refuse without hurting her" as his father said, and even exposed his true thoughts-completely contrary to the mainstream values ​​of society-either she didn't understand, or she was pretending to be stupid.

Although Jessica wasn't smart enough, especially when it came to so-called love, she was surprisingly stupid, but based on her understanding, she shouldn't have failed to understand his polite refusal.Therefore, things have already escaped his control and embarked on a derailed path.But fortunately, love is just a temporary dopamine secretion, without continuous stimulation, no matter how great the enthusiasm is, it will decline.He firmly believed that as long as he didn't do anything, everything would be solved automatically until the day Jessica gave up after figuring it out.

In short, love is more terrifying than imagined, just like this, he has been exhausted to the extreme.

He straightened out his chaotic thoughts during the short journey, then took a deep breath, took out the key and opened the door.There was a little yellow light in the direction of the restaurant, so he couldn't help but glance at the wall clock, it was almost 10 o'clock.He walked lightly to the side of the arch, poked his head out and looked - his mother was sitting at the dining table wearing glasses, with a lot of books spread out in front of her.She was seriously writing something on the paper, and there were a few discarded paper balls scattered on the ground.

Amidst Xia Chong's arrogant chirping, he wanted to leave without a sound, but he still alarmed her.

"Sherlock, you're back!" Mom looked up from the book. "What are you doing hiding there? How was the party? Would you like something to eat?"

"No." Now that he was discovered, he simply walked in and threw his schoolbag under the dining table, but his eyes kept scanning the table.

"Oh," my mother put down her pen, showing a shy smile like a girl, "David—my former colleague, who is now in the United States, is the editor-in-chief of "Annals of Mathematics". Knowing how he found this address and asked me to write, this proposition is very interesting, but I haven't touched these for many years..."

"More than that," he pointed to the envelope with only half of the corner exposed under the book, "he invited you to teach at Princeton."

"It's nothing." Mom's glasses slid down a little from the bridge of her nose, revealing her surprised eyes, "I know you are observant, but where did you come to the conclusion this time?"

He opened the dining chair opposite and sat down, put his hands on the table, and made a gesture that is said to give the other party a sense of oppression, "The conclusion you just got, you denied it too quickly, and the surprised expression took too long .”

"My God, Sherlock," said Mother, shaking her head, "I underestimate you. Davy did invite me, but I won't go, it's too far away."

"But you should go," he picked up a book casually, pointing to the signature on it, "if you hadn't resigned from Cambridge, the names on these books would have changed."

"But they still came up with these results, didn't they?" Mom took off her glasses and rubbed her forehead. "I mean, the world keeps going, whether I'm there or not."

"But..." His words stuck in his throat.

But my mother is a rare genius. She was nicknamed "the Einstein of mathematics" when she was still in college. The two monographs she published later have always been classics in the industry.More than once, he heard his mother receive calls from all over the world. They invited her to give lectures, be an editor, and even hire her as an honorary professor, but she never agreed.

"My kids are young and still need me." That's how Mom always rejects the money and fame that rolls in. "I'm retired, forever."

But the phone calls and letters did not decrease because of this, but more and more.Then Mycroft left home, he went to elementary school, middle school, and Dad's career got on the right track.They encountered some things and moved house once, but the only thing that remained unchanged was the invitation letters in various languages ​​that flew in from all over the world like a snowflake.

He had often thought, as a child, that he and Mycroft needed Mom, but that the world wanted her far more desperately.This thought often makes him feel like a dragon guarding the golden mountain, driving away all those who try to get their hands on the treasure one by one.And the resulting sense of guilt almost overwhelmed him, and he was forced to accept the silent accusation of the whole world-and this was not what he wanted.

"In Princeton, whatever you do is more meaningful than cooking for my father and me."

He rarely speaks without thinking, but maybe it is the disturbing thoughts that have been circling in his heart all the time, maybe it is the confrontational atmosphere that enveloped the dinner table at some time, and for the first time he knows what consequences this will have. In the case of non-selective words.

"Sherlock!" Mom called out his name in surprise, the pain and hurt in her eyes showing that it wasn't a fake this time.He saw that her whole upper body was exerting force, as if she was trying to restrain her urge to stand up from the chair, which made his hands on the table tremble slightly.

But he still stubbornly did not explain, nor did he apologize.

What is there to explain?He'd bet his mom thought the same way, seeing off her husband and kids every hectic morning, with dirty dishes in the sink and a pile of laundry waiting for her in the laundry room.The days of being with the vacuum cleaner are definitely not as exciting as the days beside the Cam River, and the best minds of the past are now only used to check the bills.He believes that as long as his mother is willing, she can stand on top of the world and be admired by thousands of people.And even if she doesn't want to be admired, she can choose to do what she likes.

But for this family—for him, she gave up everything.

But he didn't want her to sacrifice herself like this.

The slight sound on the stairs interrupted the heavy thoughts.He held his breath and listened quietly. It seemed that his father who was working upstairs heard the movement and came down to check, but was too frightened by the tense atmosphere to show up.He couldn't help but imagined his father hunched over and tiptoeing to hide at the stairs, which made him feel untimely funny from the bottom of his heart.

Maybe he had the same idea as him, and he found that his mother's expression gradually melted.She shook her head dumbfounded, and patted her shoulder with her hands.

"This is really..." She sighed in a low voice, and then took a few seconds to contemplate, and looked at him seriously, "Sherlock, I'm not surprised you have such thoughts..."

He wanted to tell his mother that he didn't mean it just now, but her knowing eyes made him unable to speak.

"But I don't think that my current life is meaningless, no matter what others say." Mom spread a toothy smile, "Everyone has their own understanding of the meaning of life. Maybe some people think I'm wasting my time Talent, but to me my family is what I mean, and I'm never ashamed of not being ambitious enough. A lot of people have said the same thing to me, and they've told me with a haughty attitude, 'Perfect How can your family compare to your contribution to the world', or 'You should be in the history of mathematics, but you are confined to laundry', but I didn't think so, so I gave up teaching, Married your father, and I have never regretted that decision."

"But..." he retorted instinctively, "but you can indeed make greater contributions, and... you like mathematics, that's what you love."

"The development of history will not stagnate because of a person's choice, my dear," my mother patted his cold hand, "As for my contribution... If I say, with your talent, you should be like Mai You can play a bigger role by going to work in the government like Kaufu, so that your talent will not be wasted, will you accept it?"

"No," he said quickly, "the old ones—that's not what I want to be."

"That's right," Mom blinked, "we can all create our own value in other ways."

He lowered his head and said nothing, his lips were tightly pressed, and after a while he felt his mother rubbing his hair.

"I know what you're feeling," her voice came from above his head. "You think I sacrificed my career for you and Mycroft, don't you?"

He didn't admit it or deny it, he just buried his head lower.

"You're wrong, I'm all for myself." I don't know when my mother came to him, she squatted down and looked for his eyes, "I love my major, but I love my family more, Being a housewife makes me happier, so I made this selfish choice."

"It's not selfish," he said in a hoarse voice, avoiding her eyes, "I'm sorry, Mom."

Mom took his hand and kissed his forehead, "It's okay, baby."

For the first time since he was 5 years old when he began to resist such intimacy because of Mycroft's teasing, he did not avoid it.

"You are not selfish," he felt his eyes a little sore, "You like Manchester, because I just moved to Cheshire, and I am still in such a wilderness."

"Oh no," Mom's voice was reassuring, "I like it here too, and I'm not lying."

He became the sentimental child in Mycroft's mouth again, afraid to risk seeing his mother's face with red eyes, so there was no way of knowing whether it was a white lie or not.

The author has something to say:

Thank you again Miss Xi~~What~~ Your encouragement makes the author so motivated (///▽///)