【Grandma, what is love? 】
[Love is like Boss Jiang...Her hair has turned white, but she is still waiting for someone who will never come back. This is love.]
[Can we help her? Help her find it.]
[Oh my! She is an old lady, half of her feet are buried in the ground. Maybe she died before we did anything. Forget it, forget it. Send her more charcoal. She is so old, and she still sits outside in the wind every night... What a sin...]
[You said this Boss Jiang, she was such a pretty girl when she was young, and she was also the owner of a cloth shop. Everyone in the surrounding area would like her, but why did she...]
…
Jiang Yin's eyelids became heavier.
The ink in her hand dripped down, instantly staining the face of the young man in the painting black, and the eyes were not painted. Her hands were shaking too much, and even though she had been painting for decades, she couldn't hold the pen.
White paper was scattered all over the floor, and there were thousands of drawings of young men in the fabric shop, all of which were drawn by her, with only outlines but no facial features, because she was afraid that if she drew the facial features, he would still not come back.
The young man with black hair and golden eyes turned into a puff of dust and disappeared before her eyes. It seemed to mean that even the revolving lantern was over.
“Su…”
She used her last bit of strength to hold the paintbrush firmly. She wanted to write his name on the painting one last time. She wanted to write his name for the last time.
Tears fell from her eyes, which had not cried for decades, and her eye sockets were wet and hot. Her white hair fluttered on the side of her face, like frost and snow on a winter night. She stared blankly at the drawing paper, as if in a nightmare.
She had never been to school in her life and could not read a few words.
The only words she could write were his name. She could only write the syllables vaguely, and she didn't even know which words his syllables referred to. So now when she wanted to write his name on the painting, she could only write the syllables.
In the end, she couldn't even write his name.
The pen tip stopped for a long time, her breathing became slower and slower, and she slowly wrote down a word that she was not sure of among countless homophones. Maybe this was not his name at all.
"……cold."
Hope this is your name.
I hope... I wrote it right in the end.
The brush falls.
The pains all over her body swept over her, and the sea breeze kissed the ends of her hair. Her heart, which had been in pain for a long time, seemed to hear...
The sound of footsteps.
"Tick, tick, tick."
Suddenly, it seemed as if a young man in a black robe was walking towards her. The sea breeze blew, and his black hair was blown by the wind, revealing the bright gold under his eyebrows, and his face was still the same as before.
The heavy snow fell on his hair, dyeing it a similar color to hers. It was as if in this life, he had finally turned gray in front of her eyes.
Life is too short after you are half a century old.
She is very old now, but the young man is still the same as when they first met.
Strange...
She clearly didn't add eyes to the painting, and the entire painting was stained by ink, so why did he appear?
Her vision was blurry for a moment, her thoughts slowed down, and suddenly she understood...it turned out that this was a hallucination before she died.
Her life was too short, she didn't let herself go, she was too stubborn. Until the last moment, she finally let herself go and gave herself a deceptive illusion.
It's an illusion... It's an illusion...
At least, she finally dared to say those cowardly words she had said for so long.
[I miss you so much...] She stretched her hand forward, tears already streaming down her face. There came from her chest a sound like a broken bellows, and she could not utter any specific words, not even she herself could hear the sound from her throat.
But he was hallucinating, so of course he understood what she said. He faced the wind and snow, held her hand, slowly squatted in front of her, and smoothed the scars of the disease on her face.
The snow melted on her face little by little, mixing with the sour tears and flowing down.
【Sorry.】 he said.
She knew that even if it was an illusion, he would not give her a positive answer. He never gave her the ambiguous illusion of love, and she had always been waiting.
[It... doesn't matter...] She raised her hand and wanted to touch his face. It was clearly an illusion. She hesitated for a second, but still lowered her head a few points and just touched his shoulder with restraint: [It's... ok.]
Get the answer, that's enough.
She already knew the answer.
[I met a girl before, but I didn't agree to her. Later, she got married and lived a happy life. I thought...] His voice became low.
I thought that you would find someone more suitable and embrace your happiness, so I left decisively.
But he didn't expect that the girl named "Jiang Yin" was so stubborn. Time passed too fast, and when he came back, it was too late.
【Sorry.】 He repeated it again, but still without any additional answer.
Jiang Yin took out the newly bought glass bottle from her bosom. It had been warmed up, and the daisies had already withered. She could finally show... the confession that the girl had practiced countless times in front of the mirror.
This is... the forty-ninth time.
She managed to say it.
[Xiao Lin. I like you. I have liked you since the first time we met, the first time I said something to you, and the first time you looked at me. People ask me what I like about you, but I can’t say it out loud if I am asked to explain it in detail.]
[If I must say, it's your eyes and eyebrows that I like very much. I also like your expression. I still like the way you sit on the eaves. I still like the way you ask me if the tea tastes good... I really want to get rid of this feeling, so that I won't be so painful, but I just can't get rid of it. If there is an afterlife, if you still can't agree to me, then don't meet me. Otherwise, if it happens again, I will still like you. That's too painful, I don't want it...]
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