Chapter 179
The apricot blossoms have fallen, but the crabapple trees on the other side of the bridge are blooming again. The flowering season in the south is just like that; one species fades, and another takes over. Even in winter, there are plum blossoms and camellias. Except for a period of slightly bleakness around November, there's no shortage of flowers at all.
When I was a child, I would come to my grandmother's house to stay for a while every few years and see the fragrant flowers in March under the fireworks in the south of the Yangtze River. After my mother passed away, I haven't seen it for many years.
In recent years in Hong Kong, I have been appreciating the subtropical scenery. The flowers there are of two styles, the same as those in the south of the Yangtze River. One is warm, rich, large and gorgeous; the other is gentle, fragile, beautiful and ethereal, with the feeling that colorful clouds are easily dispersed and glass is brittle.
When she was a child, she read the poem "Nothing can be retained in the world, the beauty leaves the mirror, the flowers leave the trees." She thought of the peach, apricot and pear blossoms that bloomed like clouds and snow in spring, their petals falling like snow, and in a few days, they were all gone.
Wang Jiazhi finally went out to buy something. She rarely went out, not only because she was afraid of seeing people, but also because she was in a bad mood. Especially in spring when all the flowers are in full bloom and the scenery is at its most beautiful.
The warmer the weather, the more beautiful the flowers bloomed, and the more it reminded her that winter was getting further away.
They are only together in winter, as if God has determined that they don't even deserve a warm and floral spring, and are only fit to live in the cold autumn and winter.
She saw a boy in a gray gown standing under the crabapple tree, holding a few books in his hands. When the wind blew, the crabapple petals fell all over his body and head.
"He once walked proudly and confidently in the sunshine," she thought to herself.
She went back and lay on the bed, thinking about random things again.
"What is he doing now?"
Will he look at the white jasmine flowers blooming on the roadside and the new leaves sprouting from the sycamore trees?
Now that I'm gone, will he still be in the mood to appreciate the flowers? He should at least be sad or angry for a few days.
A few days, a few months now. It's probably over by now. It's not like he didn't care from the beginning.
She lay down at noon, the room gradually darkened, and then the lights from other houses came in. She lay there the whole time, not getting up or turning on the lights.
And then I thought: "What is he doing now?"
It's not like he would play with women so early. But that's not necessarily the case. He wants her to go out at any time.
He wouldn't go back to see Mrs. Ma, would he? A good horse never turns back, so he wouldn't necessarily go back to see Mrs. Ma.
She hated Mrs. Ma the most, not because she and he got along well, but because she was always making things difficult for her.
What's the saying that youth can cover up three ugly things? Men also like to throw an 18-year-old sow on the bed.
What she meant was that she was just young. If she were a few years younger, would she be favored?
Hey! Is everyone Wang Jiazhi?
Wang Jiazhi hated it in her heart.
Anyone? He's had so many women, and I'm already over 18. Is it hard for him to find someone who's 18? There are younger ones too. So many people rush to throw themselves at her. Why would he treat me differently just because I'm younger?
How could it be different? He would always have someone, either Mrs. Horse, Mrs. Sheep, or Mrs. Ox. People also liked to give him actors and little stars.
Wang Jiazhi covered herself with the quilt and cried.
Gradually, the lights in each house went out, but the moon came up, and the moonlight left a round halo on her quilt. The quilt trembled slightly, and the person inside was still crying.
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