summer passerby

"What's so good about practicing the piano?" Jiang Xindong was puzzled.

He Ting pointed to Erqi who was rolling into a ball with Hudou on the ground, shamelessly shirking responsibility: "It doesn't want to go."

Jiang Xindong moved his mouth, didn't speak, and finally waved his hand: "It's up to you."

The dog days after the rain were very sunny, half of the curtains were drawn in the living room, and Jiang Xindong sat in that dimly lit position, his body seemed to be covered with a layer of honey-gold tulle.

He practiced several chords repeatedly, his joints were distinct, his slender fingers lightly swept across the strings, and the melodious notes popped out.

He Ting sat on the sofa, propped his chin with one hand, and began to analyze the composition of light, trying to draw the scene in front of him.

But drawing is too slow, taking pictures will be faster.

As soon as he thought of it, he pretended to play with his mobile phone, but actually lifted it up, found a good angle, and secretly took a picture.

On a summer afternoon, the young man who was devoted to meditation, swipe on the fingertips of the guitar, and it became the first Jiang Xindong on He Ting's phone.

An hour later, Jiang Xindong stood up to drink water, and the person on the sofa had already fallen asleep on his back, with his mobile phone halfway on his right leg.

"Jiang Xindong." He Ting murmured in his dream.

"What?" Jiang Xindong thought he was calling, and tilted his head in response, but the person on the sofa did not answer.

As he walked over, He Ting still had his eyes closed, his eyeballs rolled around a few times, his eyelashes were long and soft and hung under his eyelids, occasionally trembling, like the colorful feathers he had seen in drawing books when he was a child.

Jiang Xindong felt a strange softness swaying in his heart.

On weekdays, Li Heting's eyes are very light, and every frown and smile always makes people feel cold.It is rare for him to lose his alienation in his sleep, and his beautiful skin looks calm and beautiful.

Jiang Xindong bent down slightly, his eyes fixed on his cheeks, and after a while, a weird idea popped up:

The skin is really good.

In the blink of an eye, it was August, and Jiang Xindong had already taught He nearly ten lessons.He even forgot when He Ting began to change sex.

He listened to lectures in class, and even took the initiative to send WeChat to ask him how to solve the problem after class.

Meng Banmei felt that He Ting's child was very pitiful, and because of the love of his parents, she often asked him to come to the house for dinner.

He Ting was not polite, he was there whenever he called, came and went, and became familiar with Jiang Xindong.

After class one day, Jiang Xindong stood in front of a wall covered with paintings in He Ting's house and asked him, "Did you draw these?"

"I'm really looking forward to it," He Ting shook his head, "Some are drawn by me, and some are by Chagall."

"Chagall?" Jiang Xindong's understanding of art is mostly in music, and the painter only knows the few people who are most familiar to the world, and the rest is his blind spot.

"A Russian painter," He Ting pointed to the brightest paintings on the wall, and said, "These are his paintings."

With such a finger, Jiang Xindong can quickly tell that He Ting's paintings are mostly realistic, while Chagall's paintings are more dreamy.

"Do you like his paintings?" Jiang Xindong asked, feeling redundant just after asking.

"That's right," He Ting said without hesitation, talking more about the things he loves, his pupils flickering slightly, "He has experienced two wars and fled everywhere, he should have a lot of pain to paint, but he will always only paint romance. "

Jiang Xindong crossed his arms and looked carefully at the two very different painting styles on the wall. After thinking for a moment, he had a question: "Since I like it, why are your styles so different?"

He Ting frowned subconsciously, shook his head, and wrote lightly: "Unfortunate people have difficulty drawing happiness."

Jiang Xindong couldn't think of that sentence all day long, He Ting was just stating the objective facts without any hypocritical meaning, but unintentionally and resolutely classified himself as an "unfortunate person".

A 17-year-old boy with no worries about food and clothing seems to be far away from misfortune, but Jiang Xindong tried his best to recall the scenes where He Ting laughed heartily.

The reason and weight of each person's grief are different, incomparable, and difficult to evaluate.

For the first time, he had some thoughts of meddling in other people's lives, but he simply hoped that the other person would laugh more.

Crush had a performance in the university city on weekends, and He Ting volunteered to take pictures for them when he knew about it. Jiang Xindong thought it would be better than playing games at home all day, so he took them along.

It was still summer vacation, and many students returned to their hometowns, but not many people came to watch.After the performance, he introduced He Ting to the members, with the same sentence: "My child in class, He Ting."

He Ting was very dissatisfied with this uncool introduction, and frowned slightly to correct him: "I'm not a kid."

"Okay," Jiang Xindong replied casually while putting the guitar in the piano bag, "kid."

He Ting pressed down on his half-loaded qin, with a serious look on his face, his nose almost wrinkled: "It's really not."

Jiang Xindong raised his eyebrows, quite stubborn.

But he didn't intend to get entangled in this matter, and coaxed with a smile: "That's not it."

Only then did He Ting let go of his hand contentedly.

Ai Siyi's heart skipped a beat for no reason when she caught this scene. She couldn't explain the reason for the unreasonable rejection of He Ting, but it got stronger every time they met.

He Ting is not a person who is good at invigorating the atmosphere, after saying hello to the band members, he silently followed behind Jiang Xindong, and only replied a few words when someone mentioned it.

Fortunately, the quality of the photos he took was indeed excellent, each one was like a story, even Yi Fan, who is usually picky, couldn't help but praise.

So everyone's impression of him changed from "cold boy" to "cold boy who can take pictures".

In the evening, Zhuang Gaoyang suggested that everyone have dinner together, and naturally he also brought He Ting along.

The location is Snack Street, a usually sparse barbecue restaurant.

On a hot summer day, barbecue must be served with cold beer.He was less obedient, Zhuang Gaoyang was afraid that he would not let him go, so he took the initiative to hold wine and talk to him.

Jiang Xindong reached out to stop him: "What kind of wine do underage children drink?"

When He Ting heard the phrase "children" again, his face was full of displeasure, and he grabbed the wine glass and drank it down in one gulp.After drinking, wiped the corners of his mouth clean, and looked at Jiang Xindong unconvinced: "I might go to the bar more times than you."

Jiang Xindong frowned rather annoyed, recently He Ting was so obedient in front of him that he almost forgot about the rebellious and fun-loving "problem boy" in Li Man's mouth.

"That's all right, all right, you're not a few years older than him," Zhuang Gaoyang came out to smooth things over, "Just drink a few glasses of beer, as if you're protecting some baby."

The word "baby" is very useful, He Ting smiled, and the words he said were no longer harsh, but more like comforting: "Don't worry, I won't get drunk."

He Ting, who claimed to be non-drunk, was in a good mood all night. After unknowingly downing a few bottles of beer, he ordered a few more glasses of soda. He successfully crossed the threshold of being slightly drunk and reached a state of half-drunk and half-awake in one fell swoop.

He drank on his face, his fair face was blushed, and his words were a little confused.

Zhuang Gaoyang looked at Jiang Xindong regretfully: "Ah, the underage seems to be a little drunk."

Jiang Xindong glanced at him sharply, which means that you can solve the fire yourself.

Over there, Ai Siyi was silent for a whole night, she was too drunk without realizing it, and she was holding Jiang Xindong's hand and talking nonsense.

Because they are neighbors upstairs and downstairs, Jiang Xindong and Ai Siyi usually go back together, but today's scene is a bit difficult.

"Or," Yi Fan rubbed his chin in thought, and raised his head towards Jiang Xindong: "You should send Siyi, and Gao Yang and I will send your friend back."

As soon as the words fell, He Ting hugged Jiang Xindong's arm, pressed his chin on his shoulder, and muttered: "I want you to see it."

Jiang Xindong turned his head to tease him: "Didn't you say you won't get drunk?"

He Ting rubbed his eyes, wheezed and blinked, and whispered back to him: "I'm not drunk."

The hot air from his nostrils hit Jiang Xindong's collarbone, and the evening wind in August carried a viscous temperature, which made people feel restless.

Jiang Xindong tilted his head uncomfortably, and pulled out the hand held by Ai Siyi to push He Ting's head away, but the people beside him stubbornly hugged him even tighter.

After a few minutes of stalemate, he disarmed and surrendered: "I'll send He Ting back first, and you two will send Siyi back."

Only then did the tightly hugged arms loosen, He Ting's body softened, Jiang Xindong failed to catch him the first time, but he hugged his waist hard the second time to support him up.

Saying goodbye to Zhuang Gaoyang and the others, Jiang Xindong helped the staggering man to the corner of the street.

The snack street in City B is famously bustling, especially in summer evenings, full of bustling snack bars, brightly lit and fragrant.

Jiang Xindong stood upright and waited for the bus, He Ting put both hands on his shoulders intentionally or unintentionally, rubbing the tip of his nose restlessly against his neck.

He held He Ting's waist with his hand, which was a little awkward, but he was afraid that the person in front of him would not be able to stand still, so he dared not let go.

This weird posture, from a distance, looks like... couples hugging and whispering.

On the noisy street, this pair of handsome-looking youths under the street lamps are particularly eye-catching.A young girl stared at them for a few seconds, then walked quickly, covering her mouth and blushing.

Jiang Xindong showed embarrassment, but he had nothing to do with the drunk.He bowed his head and called He Ting's name softly, hoping that the other party would be quiet.

"Huh?" He Ting raised his face, opened his eyes and blinked a few times, his pupils shone softly, and the thin emotions of the past disappeared immediately, looking innocent and ignorant.

Jiang Xindong met those focused and bright eyes, and was speechless for a moment, forgetting what to say.

Fortunately, the car came early, he quickly recovered and quickly stuffed He Ting into the car.

The city was still full of traffic at night, the taxi turned a big bend before merging into the main road, and He Ting fell headlong into Jiang Xindong's arms again.

Just as he was about to pull him up, his jaw was suddenly pinched, and the eyes of the person in his arms opened wide curiously, as if he was looking for something.

"Scar," He Ting rubbed Jiang Xindong's jaw line with his thumb and index finger, then stopped somewhere and whispered, "here."

Jiang Xindong tilted his neck, pressed his wrist silently, and said in a deep voice, "Listen, get up."

He Ting turned a deaf ear to him, looked at him with sparkling eyes, and suddenly raised his beautiful lips, and called softly and softly: "Dongdong."

As the sound continued, Jiang Xindong missed a few heartbeats unexpectedly. It was an unusual night, but the air molecules were rippling with an ambiguous atmosphere.

He lowered his head, and the person in his arms had closed his eyes and fell asleep.

The car was still moving forward steadily, and the golden city lights outside the window were flickering on He Ting's beautiful facial features, all kinds of amorous feelings.

The sparkling red at the end of the boy's eyes was a bit seductive, Jiang Xindong involuntarily raised his index finger to touch it, but pulled it back a moment before touching it.

This elusive behavior cannot even be explained by itself.

Jiang Xindong closed his eyes in annoyance, and pinched Shangen hard, only to feel that he was quite drunk tonight.