Jujube

I have a good memory since I was a child, but whenever I think of the time in Nanting and Xinghe, I can’t tell any stories. It’s like a dream. The experience is extremely long, but it’s just a night in retrospect.

Open your eyes and see the naked people in the bathhouse, Wang Chunlu in the corridor or a steaming bowl of Guilin rice noodles. Close your eyes and see a dark or bizarre dream.

I always dream about Lu Xinyao.

This habit has been developed since I was a child. I miss him when I can't fall asleep, and dream about him when I fall asleep.

After Wang Chunlu pulled me back from the dead end, I often thought of Lu Xinyao's words: "Can you not live without me?"——No, I can live.I can live without him.

I am determined to find a way out and get rid of Lu Xinyao.Mao Lin once said, it’s not about smoking opium, what can’t be done?However, Lu Xinyao is like a tube of opium, and I am addicted to opium. If I take a puff, he will make me want to die, but if I rush to reincarnate, he will make me never be reborn.

As soon as I closed my eyes, I thought of him, our bodies touching each other in the dark, the scar on his face, and then the way he kicked me out the door.I can't tell whether I have more love for Lu Xinyao or more hatred I have accumulated. Every time I dream of him, when I wake up, there is always one place that is wet, face, back, or legs.

Once I dreamed that I was kneeling in front of the incense table, and behind me was my grandmother buzzing like a mosquito.She stood devoutly, lit a red candle in front of the Avalokitesvara statue, and counted my sins with her head down: I stopped reading books, people ran away, my family was abandoned, and no one could take care of me.Then she took out the scratching plane—she called it "filial piety son", which was designed to beat unworthy descendants, counting one by one.

I was beaten by my grandmother once when I was a child, so I also remembered the pain in my dream. The pain was so painful that I couldn't open my eyes, and I could only hear myself screaming.It was grandma who picked and scratched, but it was "brother".

But after all, it was a dream, there was no beating from the beginning to the end, slap—the tickle fell to the ground, and the grandmother suddenly disappeared from the dream.

In the empty room, only me and a statue of Guanyin were left in front of me.

For some reason, my heart was beating violently, and I felt a kind of unreasonable fear, and I couldn't help staring timidly at the Guanyin on the incense table.I saw the flame of the candle flickering on the wall, and the dancing flames and shadows brightened and darkened on Guanyin's face, forming a crack that seemed real and illusory.On the head of the three-point red incense, a few wisps of green smoke rose slowly.

Then, the tickle planer on the ground was picked up, stood upright, climbed straight up from the heel to the calf, and scratched gently.Miss me?he asks.He pinched his chin with his hands, opened his mouth, caught a disobedient fish, hooked it with his fingers, and tortured him slowly.If you don't answer, you will be forced, the method of forcing a good man into prostitution, "filial piety" scratches the flesh, scrapes the scales and cuts the abdomen, scratches the naked strips to produce bright red blood...

When I woke up there was no blood, just a wet sticky tangle between my legs.

How ridiculous.In the dream I was tortured by him until I was out of shape, but in reality I was happy?I really hate him, I hate him so much that I want to bite open the wounds on his face and hands.But I was also afraid of him, so afraid that I couldn't help but lick the bleeding place clean again.

Not a good dream, but I wrote it down in my diary, on the first page of my second book, dirty and shameless and obscene.Things are like a spring dream without a trace, and it is precisely because of this dirty, shameless and indecent that it is worth writing in the diary.

I reflected at the end, and I will no longer call me brother, even in my dreams.I called him out, if not, maybe he wouldn't show up.But things in the world, how can it be so simple?

A beautiful snake with superb cultivation, even if the other party refuses to agree, she will come to her at night. —He came out of the dream.

That night of smog, the story started from the supper stand.

The supper stand faces the Linjiang River in the south, and leans against a stone wall in the north, about three meters high. The top of the wall is a roof, surrounded by railings full of colorful light bulbs, and a quiet bar with a stage and sound system. Every night there are people Sing.

I was eating Guilin rice noodles at a supper stall, when I suddenly heard someone whistling on the rooftop, and when I looked up, he was also glancing down—it was Feng Lang.Feng Lang hugged his guitar, strummed the strings leisurely, and sang to me: "Look here, look here..." After singing, he hooked his fingers and motioned for me to go up.

Feng Lang used to be a waiter of Xinghe like me, because he had a clear and clear voice and knew an instrument, so he left Xinghe later and started a band with a few friends. They often performed in this small bar.

When I was in Xinghe, I could hear Feng Lang sing every day, but this was the first time I saw him perform.I found the phone in my pocket and turned on the video.Feng Lang had just finished singing a song. He swept his fingers lightly on the strings, raised his head, and grinned at the camera.But the pixel of the phone is very low, even though he is sitting under the light, his face is still blurred.

A cruise ship was passing by on the Linjiang River in the distance, and many people raised their mobile phones to take pictures. At this time, I heard Feng Lang change the song, and the first sentence he said was: "I really want to write you a letter, tell me The weather here, the movie last night, and my mood..."

It's an old song, I've heard it before, long ago when I was still playing with the white sparrows.I clearly remember that when I was squatting at the door of the karaoke box, I heard my brother's voice singing from the first line to the last line, and then Sister Wen's laughing words: "Remove the 'although'! The only is the only... "

I felt my fingers tremble unconsciously, and the screen of the phone also flickered, but when I stabilized the phone, I was completely in a trance.I stared at the screen in rapt attention. Noise flickered constantly on the screen, and there was a figure standing quietly under the purple light.It's like a dream, like a dream.

The screen of the mobile phone is not as big as a fist, and the outline is not as big as a fingernail, and it is more blurred than Feng Lang in front of me, but even so, I was still stunned at a glance.The dark and dizzy outline, like a black hole, sucks the out-of-body soul in... like a water ghost that eats human souls.

In an instant, a word almost blurted out.is it you?is it you?

"Meng Li!"

I was lost in thought, at this moment, Feng Lang suddenly patted me.

This shot seemed to mess up the time. I couldn't remember the cause and effect all of a sudden, and I was shot back to Baiquedang's elementary school. One afternoon more than ten years ago, Zhang Buyu suddenly called Lu Xinyao's name.My first reaction was not to respond to Zhang Buyu or Feng Lang, but to look at "Lu Xinyao" -- the vague silhouette by the fence -- just like at that time.

He is not my brother!

I woke up suddenly.

What a shame.Obviously being kicked out, he didn't recognize me, and I didn't recognize him anymore, that's why he ran away from home, but after arriving in Nanting, he kept looking for a figure similar to him again and again. ——No matter how they look, they are not the same person, they are all fakes of that person. ... The only authentic product has become someone else's bridegroom.

However, by coincidence, almost at the same moment, I felt the outline move, as if looking this way.

I forgot he couldn't see me.Because I was standing in the dark, there were only a few faint rays of light hitting me, which were not enough to reflect into anyone's eyes, but the illusion-like, unwarranted sight still made my eyelids twitch rapidly.

Feng Lang left the stage at some point, brought a pitcher of light beer, and blocked it with his broad back, so that the figure was out of sight.His eyelids stopped twitching and his heart was still beating. Feng Lang asked strangely, "Who are you looking at?"

I shake my head.No one looked at it, it was a ghost attached to the passerby.

"Recently, I'm writing songs." Feng Lang didn't pursue it, he said enthusiastically that they planned to make an album of their own, and the concept of the album had already been thought out, called "Youwei".He poked a beer glass with his finger and told me it was bitter, the "bitterness" of sweet, sour, bitter, spicy and salty.Then he picked up the guitar, hung a string of silver bracelets with his left hand to press the strings, and then he played with his right hand, humming a demo of one of the songs while playing.

What is it?A faint, intoxicating song, my eyes unconsciously moved up from the silver bracelet, moved to the distance, and walked into a piece of purple light... Hurriedly, I threw myself into my arms.It turned out that this was a ghost obsessed with his mind, he had already lost his soul, the three souls and seven souls had eaten up one soul, and he still posted it eagerly, and gave him the only remaining soul as a "wrapping head".

But he doesn't want to.The purple light was still there, but the long ghostly figure floated away.

He left the railing, walked through the crowd, and walked down the roof, but he never left my sight.I saw him turn around and show his back.

My heart was hooked, and there was an invisible rope holding me, just like Wu Wu of the underworld uses a seductive rope to hold a newly dead ghost.

There is no cure.Before I could react, I was already following him.

From a distance, I was a little flustered, not knowing if I was trying to prove that he was a fake, or not.