summer passerby

He Ting was very self-aware and didn't sit in the co-pilot, but in order to see Jiang Xindong's profile when he looked up, he chose the seat behind the co-pilot.

Jiang Xindong is glamorous on stage, but dull and low-key in private.The black trim on the car is a good example.

He Ting was the exact opposite of him.He painted since he was a child, and later came into contact with photography. For him, color is life, and Jiang Xindong, who is usually dull, happens to be the most colorful stroke in his life.

This is a wonderful logical relationship.

The smell in the car was exactly the same as the perfume smell on Jiang Xindong's body. He Ting leaned on the back of the back seat and took a deep breath. Hormones kicked in, and a slight abnormal palpitation spread to his internal organs.

He thought very spinelessly, even if he rounded it up, he had relied on Jiang Xindong.

The air was eerily quiet, Jiang Xindong found He Ting's eyes in the rearview mirror, the eyelashes drooped, and the eyes shone faintly like glass beads, but they were lifeless.

As if noticing the extra line of sight, He Ting's eyes moved up quickly, and his gaze also fell on the rearview mirror.

When the four eyes met, there seemed to be sparks in the air, and the tip of my heart trembled like an electric shock.Jiang Xindong suddenly looked away, coughed against his nose, and broke the silence: "Are you going to the hospital?"

He Ting bent down to look at the injured part of her thigh, it was bruised, and it would still hurt if she touched it casually, but it didn't hurt her muscles or bones.On the contrary, the broken skin on the back of the hand is a bit large, and the flesh and blood are exposed, so it needs to be dealt with.

"No, it's all skin trauma." He couldn't help but raise the corners of his mouth when he spoke, if Jiang Xindong backed up and came back to surprise him, then he was delighted by his concern now.

Jiang Xindong turned on the background music in the car, November Rain from Guns N' Roses, which has a sense of distant times.

The time was 27:[-], there was a strong wind blowing outside the window, and lyrical rock jumped into his ears. He Ting asked him, "Why don't you play your song?"

Jiang Xindong drove the car back to the parking lot, put one hand on the steering wheel and reversed skillfully: "I'm tired of listening."

When he turned his head around, the bridge of the nose and the chin formed a neat line, and He Ting remembered the exquisite works of art explained by the teacher in the art class.

With a smooth operation, he parked the car, took out a first aid kit from the trunk and threw it to He Ting: "Treat the wound first."

He Ting said thank you in a low voice, opened the first aid kit, and took out iodine and cotton.The white cotton swab turned brown when stained with iodine, and the wound began to have a strong burning sensation as soon as it was applied.

It's so painful!

He Ting frowned deeply, hesitating to hold the cotton swab, not daring to touch the flesh again.

Standing outside the car, Jiang Xindong folded his hands in front of his chest, and looked down at He Ting—the wide white T-shirt was supported by his slender back, and he seemed to be much thinner than before. Firm and smooth jawline.

The person is still the same person, but the arrogance between the brows has faded, replaced by a bit of obedience and indifference.

Seeing that He Ting didn't let go of his hands for a long time, he leaned down, grabbed the cotton swab with one hand, and tightly grasped He Ting's wrist with the other. one time."

His hands were generous and strong, and the palms were hot. The moment the skin touched, a strange heat flowed to He Ting's limbs.

The cotton swab carefully wiped the wound several times, and the skin burned like it was about to burn.He Ting could not help but "hiss", and subconsciously retracted his hands.

"Don't move." Jiang Xindong pressed his hand and wiped the wound with concentration, his Adam's apple inadvertently slid up and down, and He Ting's heart also thumped.

At this time, there was only a palm distance between them, so close that they could hear each other's breathing.Jiang Xindong's warm breath patted He Ting's hand, like a tiny feather gently scratching, soft and numb.

He couldn't help but want to get closer.

After an extremely brief absence, He Ting suddenly pulled out his hand, turned his face away, and didn't look into the other person's eyes.Even though there was a ripple in my heart, the tone of the speech was still calm: "It's over, let's go."

Jiang Xindong nodded: "Where do you live?"

He Ting briefly reported the address.

Perhaps it was the physical contact just now that broke the embarrassment between the two. On the way back, they started chatting like ordinary friends.

Of course, some topics were tacitly avoided, such as the abrupt breakup four years ago.

The car turned an intersection, and Jiang Xindong asked him if he liked New York.

He Ting felt that this was a difficult question to answer clearly in a few words.

New York is an inclusive, diverse and dynamic city, and he should like it there.

However, when talking about liking a city, it often involves the mood of the person concerned at that time, as well as the people and things he met.He Ting recalled the year when he first arrived in New York, he was haunted by helplessness and longing almost every day.

He stuffed the raging emotions into a narrow space, trying to turn a blind eye, trying to kill them all, but he never succeeded, so that even he himself went wrong later.

Even if this mood calmed down a lot in the next few years, it just changed from unwillingness to regret.

He often thinks about Jiang Xindong's black and white and gray wardrobe while learning the principle of color, and thinks about how to compose pictures if Jiang Xindong is here while sweeping the street with his camera.

He had never met Jiang Xindong in New York, but that city was full of many daydreams about the man.

There were bright lights outside the car window, and the light from the windshield just outlined Jiang Xindong's imposing silhouette. He Ting watched silently, and said in a barely audible voice: "I still prefer City B."

Because here is the real you.

Jiang Xindong raised his eyebrows: "So this is why you returned to China?"

"Not exactly." He Ting lowered his eyes, depressed.

He told Jiang Xindong that He Chenxing had leukemia.Jiang Xindong visibly shook his hand holding the steering wheel, with a surprised expression: "Leukemia? Is that... serious?"

"We've found a matching bone marrow, so the survival rate is pretty high." He Ting looked out the window with a slight frown. In fact, he had no idea.

In the past, he would occasionally bring He Chenxing with him on two dates. It was rare for a child to be sensible and not fool around.

Jiang Xindong was silent for a few seconds, and from the corner of his eye he held back the people in the back row: "Which hospital is he in?"

"Chong Guang," He Ting joked, "Why do you ask this, you don't want to go see him, do you?"

The voice fell for a while, but the people in the front row still didn't answer. He Ting was startled, and suddenly realized that Jiang Xindong was serious!

"Wait until the work is over," Jiang Xindong put one hand on his forehead, frowned, and said calmly, "Don't get me wrong, I just really like him."

"En." He Ting nodded, who wouldn't like a smart, well-behaved, good-looking kid like He Chenxing.

It was raining outside the window, and the rain was pattering on the glass window, and the world outside the car was cut into beautiful or glazed spaces by water droplets.

While waiting for the red light, Jiang Xindong asked him again: "Did Zonggu come back with you?"

"No, he came back a long time ago because of work." He Ting shook his head, his palms were tightened, his eyes flickered, he wanted to say that he and Zong Gu had never been together before.

He took a deep breath and said, "He and I..."

Jiang Xindong interrupted him: "It's not easy to meet someone you like, cherish it."

He Ting paused awkwardly, twitched the corner of his mouth in embarrassment, and looked at Jiang Xindong closely: "What about you? Is there anyone you like?"

At the end of the red light, Jiang Xindong stepped on the accelerator and said calmly: "Yes, I am in contact."

Just as he was talking, several WeChat messages popped up from the mobile phone placed on the navigation stand, and He Ting saw that the name of the person who sent the WeChat messages was Dai Ruochi.

He felt his throat tighten, and his mouth suddenly seemed to be filled with lead, before he could say a word: "Is that the guy from the grocery store last time?"

"Yes." Jiang Xindong glanced at He Ting in the rearview mirror, his dark eyes were like a flowing sea, unfathomable.

He Ting swallowed with difficulty, the old scar on his heart seemed to be dug open again, and the fresh pain that was pulled by the flesh and blood spread all over his body in an instant.He turned his head to look out the window, forced a smile: "Very good."

The rain was still pouring down unscrupulously, and there was silence between each other, only the harsh metal music was hitting the eardrums.

After returning home, He Ting squatted in the dark entrance for a long time with her head in her arms.When he held the painting and said goodbye, Jiang Xindong was replying to Dai Ruochi with his mobile phone.

He couldn't restrain himself from searching the Internet for information related to Dai Ruochi, and there was nothing else except knowing that he was a lyricist.

Finally, he saw a person named "Chi" in Jiang Xindong's Weibo New Follow column, clicked in, there were a few selfies of Dai Ruochi, and some simple daily sharing.

Like He Ting, he liked every Weibo of Jiang Xindong.

The difference is that he is upright, while He Ting is sneaking around with a trumpet.