Pastel Colors

Day0721:00

He Zhiyuan learned the news of Bubu's illness after the usual phone call at night.

Song Ran originally planned to hide it to the end, he knew that He Zhiyuan would not be able to fly back for a while, if he knew that Bubu was sick, at most he could only worry in the distance.But he overestimated his concentration, as soon as the phone was connected and He Zhiyuan's magnetic voice hit his ears, he was like a leaky pot with seven or eight holes gouged out, leaking out all the secrets.

After the leak was over, he tried his best to remedy it, saying that Bubu's fever had subsided, and told He Zhiyuan not to worry.

This is not a lie.

Bubu is really in good spirits, lying in Songran's arms and chatting with his father, his words are crisp and lively, especially energetic.It's just that the sick child is somewhat weaker than usual, and while chatting, suddenly his small mouth pursed, and two streams of tears rolled down his face.

"Baba, I miss you so much." Boo Bu choked and said, "I haven't seen you for a long, long, long time."

Mr. He has been on a business trip for a week, which is a long enough separation for a four-year-old child.Songran hugged Bubu, comforted him with her body temperature, and kissed his little face with her head down.

The rest of the time belonged to the father and son, with Songran by his side, listening to He Zhiyuan's good words to comfort Bubu, and occasionally adding a few words just right.

He Zhiyuan promised to return to China on April 4th, and Song Ran agreed that he would draw a calendar with hollow footprints for Bubu, and that Bubu would paint one with a colored pen every day, and when it was full, Dad would go home up.He Zhiyuan said that when he came back from a business trip, he would tell stories to Bubu every night, Song Ran cooperated and said, let's pick out the favorite story books one by one, and let Dad tell which ones we want to hear.

It is very amazing that young children always have a precise discernment of sincere love, and children who are bathed in love will never cry for too long.

Bubu quickly stopped crying, and said to the other end of the phone: "Baba, you come back early, my brother and I... Well, we are all waiting for you."

"I will." He Zhiyuan said, "You also have to listen to your brother, take good care of your illness, and tell him when you feel uncomfortable, understand?"

Bubu nodded: "OK."

It's already 09:30 when the call is over, and it's time to go to bed.Song Ran checked the condition of the acne all over the place, and there were dozens of scattered ones, not too serious, so he left a glass of warm water by the bedside, stuffed a small pillow into his arms, and patted his back gently , lull him to sleep.

When he came out, the mobile phone on the coffee table was vibrating.

It's He Zhiyuan's number.

Song Ran was surprised, bent down to pick up the phone, and connected the call: "Mr. He?"

"Songran, I just remembered something and I need to confirm with you." He Zhiyuan said straight to the point, "Have you had chickenpox before?"

"what?"

He Zhiyuan emphasized his tone: "You should know that chickenpox is very contagious. If you never had chickenpox when you were young and lack antibodies, you should stay away from Bubu now."

"This...it's okay." Song Ran threw herself into the sofa in a relaxed manner, and said nonchalantly, "Didn't I mention it before, I have a large group of younger brothers and sisters. There are so many children in the family, one has acne and the other Everyone has to follow suit, and I’m sure I’ll get through.”

To be honest, Songran has never had anything to do with the word "lucky" since he was a child.

He has lived in an orphanage for ten years, and he struggled among the children all the way to adulthood, and he had to suffer all kinds of bad luck. If he said that this kind of constitution could escape chickenpox by chance, he himself didn't believe it.

It's a pity that his "reasoning" is too far-fetched, and it doesn't pass at all in He Zhiyuan's eyes.

He Zhiyuan asked again: "Are you sure?"

Song Ran smiled: "I'm not sure, but it should be..."

"There is no should, there are only 'deserved' and 'not deserving'." He Zhiyuan's attitude was persistent, not to be fooled, and his tone became unprecedentedly severe.He raised his wrist and glanced at his watch, calculated the time difference, and said, "It's not yet ten o'clock, so you shouldn't be asleep at home? Songran, you should call your parents and make sure, otherwise I won't worry."

Song Ran was stunned: "For...for parents..."

He Zhiyuan keenly noticed a trace of strangeness: "Is there a problem?"

"No, no!" Song Ran hastily covered up, "Then... shall I hang up first?"

"Okay." He Zhiyuan said, "Remember to send me a message after asking."

After hanging up the phone, Song Ran sat alone on the sofa, holding the phone, silently stroking his knuckles.

One cannot lie.

The first lie has to be filled by thousands of subsequent lies, and the more they are filled, the more holes are left.When the loopholes can no longer be filled, lies will be ruthlessly exposed.

He beautified the experience of the orphanage, and pretended in front of Mr. He that he had a big and lively family, so now, he was pushed into a new predicament - at ten o'clock in the evening, the staff of the orphanage in T City had already left work, and he Who can I call?Even if it does get through, who will remember whether a child who left seven years ago had chickenpox?

No one will remember.

there has never been.

10 minutes passed in a blink of an eye, Song Ran couldn't drag it any longer, his finger jumped on the button quickly, and sent a message.

"I asked my mother, I had chickenpox."

He fixed his eyes on the screen of the phone, and saw that the logo of the message bubble changed from "sent" to "read", and after more than ten seconds, a new white bubble popped out - "Okay, I don't worry gone."

Song Ran threw the phone aside, closed her eyes, and exhaled wearily.

The next day, Bubu's fever subsided, his body temperature dropped to 37 degrees, and his appetite basically returned to normal.After breakfast, Songran took him to the balcony to bask in the sun, and killed the germs along the way. He sat on the plush cushion in the little yellow duck pajamas, read picture books for a while, played a game of pushing the ball with Budoudou, and stepped on each other's tails Play.

Ducks have short tails, cats have long tails, and Boo Boo has the species advantage. He can win with a flexible twist of his butt, and he is in a good mood.

Song Ran stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows of the living room and called the T City Welfare Institute.

He wanted to confirm his medical history.

City T is a small fourth- and fifth-tier city in an inland province. The children's welfare home occupies a small area, with low buildings, poor facilities, and uneven quality of hired staff.The uncle in the archives room was late for 10-[-] minutes early in the morning. After brewing a vat of rough leaf tea, spreading out the mimeographed magazines, tearing off a page of advertising paper and eating pancakes, he was soon immersed in the erotic story of a senior official and his mistress. So much so that when he was interrupted by the unknown phone ringing, he gave an extremely displeased "tsk".

Song Ran politely clarified his intentions, the uncle chewed two pancakes, and perfunctory him with a strong local accent: "It's okay, it's okay, none of the children here have passed it."

As he spoke, he wanted to hang up the phone.

"Wait! Can...can you please check it for me alone?" Song Ran hurriedly asked, "Ms. Jiang said before that our medical records will also be kept on file, which should be in the archives room."

The uncle's face immediately turned ugly.

He put down the pancake heavily, pushed the magazine with the bust of the actress aside, opened the registration form, and asked very impatiently: "Name, age, year of admission."

"Song Ran, Song of Songs, of course, 23 years old, admitted to the hospital in February 2001."

The uncle scribbled down the information, then threw the pen away: "I'll check it now."

He said so on the lips, but the actual action was to open the magazine, find the "Senior Official and Mistress, A Bloody Rose Trap" and continue reading. Five minutes later, after he finished reading this clichéd story, he opened his mouth to scold his mother, and then remembered that Songran was still on the other end of the phone, so he picked up the receiver and said indiscriminately: "The investigation is over, you have chickenpox."

Songran didn't hear the movement of tables and chairs, and didn't hear the sound of walking, but only heard the sound of pages turning nearby. Naturally, he felt puzzled and asked, "What year did I get it?"

The other side lost patience and got angry directly: "What's the matter with you kid? If you say you have to pass, you will pass. I will only check once. Believe it or not!"

Then, the phone was hung up.

Song Ran put down her phone, looked at the pitch-black screen, shook her head and smiled mockingly——seven years have passed, and the orphanage is still the same, unchanged, and people feel chills through the phone.

A long time ago, there was a faded banner hanging at the gate of the orphanage in Songran's memory, with slogans such as "belong to the children's common happy family".Adults always like to say, this is your home, you are brothers and sisters to each other, the teacher is father and mother, how happy life is.During the holidays, TV stations and newspapers routinely come to interview. As long as they can guide the children to face the camera and say "the orphanage is my home", the task will be successfully completed.

But every child knows that the orphanage is not a real home.

The concept of "home" is too slender and too fragile. It is like a glass sculpture held on pearl fleece, and a small impact will shatter it to pieces.Sometimes, when the children are about to believe it, some words of excessive compassion close to humiliation, a cold look of overt love but secret disgust, or like today, when they are sick and ask the uncle in the archives to help them, they will Immediately woke up and realized - this is not home.

No matter how many decorations on the walls and bouquets on the tables, this is not home.

Song Ran raised his head, and through the floor-to-ceiling windows on the twelfth floor, there were rows and rows of incomparably similar glass windows on the opposite side.He turned his head to look at the balcony again, a beam of blurred sunlight pierced through the clouds and evenly sprinkled into the room.Boo Boo hugged the big fluffy ball of hair, barefoot, curled up under the hanging bluebells and fell asleep.

He walked over quietly, sat down beside the child, and covered him with a small blanket.

So, what is home?

Home should be such a place where there are people who accompany each other, and one person's life will become the common memory of others.Your family will remember when and when you suffered from chickenpox, whether you had a fever, whether you shed tears, and how you survived every day until you recovered.When you grow up, you lose the fragmentary and vague memories of your childhood, and only your family members keep them intact for you.

Because we remember each other, we will not be helpless wherever we go.

Song Ran stretched out her hand and poked Boo Boo's round face.

it's okay.

Although no one has collected his memories, he is not sure whether he has had chickenpox or not, but he and Bubu have been together for so many days, and they are like a small grasshopper on a rope. Infected, why worry too much.

Now, taking care of Boob is the most important thing.