The Pentium Era - South to North

When Zhang Chen woke up, he habitually looked at his watch. It was already past ten o'clock. He was startled and quickly stood up from the bed. He reached for the pants hanging on the back of the chair beside the bed.

But he didn't catch anything. He looked carefully and saw that there was a table and chairs beside the bed. The table and chairs were all at the other end of the room, placed by the window. Only then did Zhang Chen realize that this was not his room in Wenming East. , but at Yilin’s house.

There are no classes to attend today. Not to mention that it’s more than ten o’clock now, it doesn’t matter if it’s eleven, twelve or five o’clock in the afternoon. You don’t need to go to work anymore. It’s not that you don’t, it’s that there are no classes to attend. .

Zhang Chen sat there, smiled wryly in self-mockery, and fell back on the bed.

Zhang Chen was lying there, but he was completely sleepless. He stared blankly at the ceiling above his head, and then he began to recall bit by bit of yesterday.

Yesterday, things happened so intensively and suddenly that he didn't even have time to react. He was like a player who was stunned by a combination of punches in the boxing ring. He staggered. Although he didn't fall down, he was stunned, stunned, and completely Lost the ability to resist.

He can only passively accept all the blows imposed on him. This kind of blow is like a sharp blade. When it is inserted, you will not feel the pain at the time. Only then, after a while, you will be lying on your back. On the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling above his head, Zhang Chen felt that sadness and pain swept over him, quickly overwhelming him.

He clearly remembered that afternoon when he came down from Mr. Fu's office and walked to the door of Wanghai International Hotel. The sunshine in Haicheng in December afternoon was still hot, but he felt that this hotness was welcoming him. I feel like I am integrating into this city.

Looking at the Haixiu Road in front of him and the cars and people, and looking at the hotel lobby behind him, he clearly remembered that at that time, he felt a sense of pride. This is my hotel, this is my Haixiu Road.

He remembered himself at that time, and even wanted to share this happiness and pride with everyone he knew or didn't know. When he thought of that moment, he even thought of the stationery store in Yongcheng, the one that gave him sketchbooks and picture folders. Salesman, he said to himself, because I will be transferred back to Hangzhou tomorrow, I want to share my happiness with you.

He felt that his happiness at that moment was the same as that of the salesperson.

Now that I think about it, how ridiculous all of this is, my pride and ecstasy, and the ridiculous happiness that comes from being arrogant. Haixiu Road is Haixiu Road, and it will not be your Haixiu Road. Haicheng is Haicheng. It won't be your city.

Including the salesman, he thought that when he returned to Hangzhou, he would return to the fairy tale world and paradise, and happiness and joy would always surround him?

No, not possible.

At this moment, I was curled up on the bed like a reptile, and he, the salesperson, was probably sitting in an alley in Hangzhou with walls covered with creepers, in front of an old mottled gray door. Zhang was drowsy on the same old bamboo chair as him, and the light that occasionally flashed in his mind was his joy and youth in Yongcheng.

He was already too old and lonely. The people who passed by him in the alley were not some sad girls holding oil-paper umbrellas and wearing lilac-like hair, but sanitation workers pushing dung trucks. Even they used disgusting words. Looking at him, I felt that this old Sith, the alley is already narrow, and you are sitting here in the way, so tight.

Zhang Chen lay there, staring blankly at the ceiling above his head. He felt that he was being rejected by this city. This city was still young, but he was already old. If he just rotted in this bed, this The city probably won't even frown.

In this world, where is there any permanent departure or return, where is there a paradise that can be achieved overnight, where is your city and your streets, only loss and sorrow will be your permanent hometown.

Life is tortured by the constant thought of changing hospital beds. Zhang Chen thought of this sentence. He remembered that it was a sentence in Baudelaire's "Melancholy in Paris".

He remembered seeing this book, a thin book, on the bookstall at the entrance of Yongcheng Department Store.

The first thing that attracted him was the cover of the book. On a light green background, there was a black woodcut in the style of Kollwitz. A sad old man stood in front of a window. The coat on his body was like iron. Covered with dirt and heavy, his eyes were obscure and timid, as if he had retreated to the end of the world.

Zhang Chen bought this book for fifty-seven cents. As he was walking and reading, he turned the page casually, and what jumped out at him was this sentence. He remembered it.

Yes, this world is like this. If you change a place, it means changing a hospital bed. Everyone is sick, but the severity is different. No one should laugh at anyone.

The Wanghai Tower project is the closest connection between Zhang Chen and this city. Ever since he decided to take on this project in December last year, his whole life has revolved around this project. This project has placed all his hopes and hopes on it. The future has also become his daily life.

When he found that he and Jin Lili were becoming more and more estranged, he did not despair. He vaguely felt that he still had sustenance.

When he decided to terminate his relationship with Gu Shufang, he actually went back to Wenmingdong with trepidation every day. His home was more like a tormenting purgatory, but he always warned himself that all this would pass and it would be fine when the project was completed.

Now that the project is completed, he has become an irrelevant person. After the closest connection between him and the city was lost, Zhang Chen felt that he and the city had become alienated. He no longer had the confidence to say, "This is mine." City, this is my street now.

A few months ago, he knew that the result that he and Jin Lili had reached today was inevitable, so when Jin Lili said those words to him yesterday, he did not feel sudden, and even felt a sense of relief that it had finally come.

But when he ran to the open space alone and walked among the fireflies, he felt that he was not transparent, but hollow, penetrated by the city. He not only had nothing to do with the city, but also had nothing to do with the people here.

Although the outcome has long been doomed, Zhang Chen will still feel loss and pain when all this really happens. This is beyond his own surprise. Perhaps it is to escape such pain that Zhang Chen has not had the courage to talk to Jin Lili. separate.

He didn't know why he was in pain or why he was lost. He just felt that when something you are used to is really taken away, there is actually no way to make up for the vacancy.

It may be that after people are continuously drained like this, they begin to become more and more indifferent and rickety, first mentally, and then physically. The reason why the eyes of a dying person are numb is not that he no longer cares about the world. Interested, but he doesn't know what else is worth lingering on.

So many years of emotional experience, if you say it is long, it is very long. If you break it down into every minute and every second, it can cover everything. If you say it is short, it is actually very short. It is only five words, let's break up, it can cover everything. .

Zhang Chen now regrets that he did not take the bundle of money yesterday. He should have taken it away. When he gets down below, he can start arranging the money one by one on the ground from the entrance of the Financial Garden. He can Use a 30-meter leather tape measure, and let the "wild boar vehicle" help pull the end of the tape measure, and measure it yourself until you reach the last piece.

In this way, he can know how much money a few years of love would cost if converted into money.

Who said there is only one way to calculate time? If you convert it into money, can’t you also calculate the length of emotional time?

Zhang Chen was just like this, thinking aimlessly, thinking about falling asleep. In his sleep, he continued to think like this, and when he woke up, he felt like a trash can, and like a person rummaging through the trash. All these things were dug up and buried again.

…

At noon, Liu Ligan made a special trip back home. He saw that the door to Zhang Chen's room was closed. He stood at the door for a while and wanted to knock but didn't. He leaned on the window to take a look and saw Zhang Chen. He lay there motionless, not knowing whether he was asleep or awake.

Liu Ligan sighed, walked downstairs again, and got in the car. Wu Zhaohui asked, go back to the company?

Just stop here and take a nap.

Wu Zhaohui was overjoyed, but he was also sleepy. The two of them parked the car in front of Yilin's house, put down their chairs, rolled down the windows, and fell asleep.

In the early hours of the morning, when there was not even a trace of light in the sky, those fireflies disappeared without a trace within a few minutes, as if they had heard an order.

As they sat there, they suddenly felt a little at a loss. For a while, everyone felt a little frustrated because they were waiting for these fireflies, and the fireflies seemed to abandon them for no reason.

They didn't see the fireflies go there after all.

In a world where fireflies disappeared, the sky lit up. They were surprised to find that the place was so decayed and dirty when there were no fireflies. The place where they were sitting was actually a piece of mud dried by the sun. In the early morning, Mist drifted from the swamp not far away, and a foul smell filled the air.

And the stench came from where they were sitting.

They almost fled from there.