dust
When the hot water poured on his head, he already noticed something wrong with his head. The dizzy pain was bearable at first, but when this feeling continued to deepen gently and indifferently until it reached the point of pain, all the fears that had troubled him were no longer important, and even the clear air was filled with the breath of despair.
It will be fine after a while, Bai Shunan thought. It would be fine if he waited until tomorrow, but his thoughts were becoming more and more connected to death.
The light outside the window that was always on at night was weakened by layers of obstacles. The dim light shone through the curtains, vaguely illuminating the outlines of the furnishings in the house. Bai Shunan looked at the ceiling. There was always a darkest spot. Now his head was dizzy and the dark spot had scattered shapes and directions in his eyes, as if the roof was soaked by water and was about to gather together and drip into his eyes.
He hadn't been able to sleep through the night, and the hours he'd endured had become disorganized and drawn out. He accused every thought that popped up in his head, condemned everything that came into his sight. He thought of his mother, then his brother, but they had become blurry. The more he thought about them, the more mistakes he made. His father, on the other hand, became clearer and clearer. His father's death was becoming clearer and clearer, appearing easily before his eyes, painted in a terrifying image.
Bai Shunan turned sideways and looked at the wall in front of him. It seemed as if his father, with his face swollen from blisters, was standing there. Every part of his body was dripping with water, and the exposed skin seemed to be melting, reflecting the night scene. He said nothing, just looked at him quietly.
It should have been a happy day, so happy that no trace of it was left in his memory. The school was rarely closed early, and he wanted to go home to scare his mother. Following the road he had walked countless times, he should have passed by the river as usual and should not have been attracted by the crowd gathered there.
He walked over, and with his thin body and light steps, he made his way through the crowd, stood at the front, and could see the appearance of the ship clearly.
With just one glance, he quickly turned back to look at the road he had come from, which had become a series of crowded gaps. He turned around and reached out to push the crowd, constantly taking steps, but in the end he was being pushed. He made up his mind not to look back.
Bai Shunan ran back home and saw his mother, who knew nothing about this. He smelled the fishy smell of fish. He thought he called out "Mom", but no word came out.
He took a deep breath, clenched the quilt with both hands, and thought of Xiaoju. He thought of it when he returned home tonight, and now, he thought of it again.
Bai Shunan closed his eyes, and Lu Jinfeng's figure began to emerge. His expression instantly changed from a superficial disguise, and his frown relaxed. If it weren't for the slight movement of his eyebrows, one would have thought he had fallen asleep. A thought suddenly flashed through his mind, making him ignore the pain for a moment: he was not by his side.
It was clearly the truth, but for a moment it overwhelmed his physical feelings. He carefully considered Lu Jinfeng's appearance in his mind.
Bai Shunan suddenly felt that he was too mean to Lu Jinfeng. He should have liked him, so why was he so mean to him? He should have been nicer to him, nicer to him, like him, and think of him all the time.
He stood up and lay down again, over and over again, tossing and turning, until a sudden decision came to him. He pulled the curtains open and walked to the balcony. He thought it was the sound of passing cars that was bothering him, but he found it was the sound of rain. After tonight, it rained for almost half a month.
Bai Shunan returned to bed. The feeling of falling asleep came over him in endless imagination. Accompanied by the residual pain, he thought of his mother again. What he missed was no longer the person, but the time spent on the road. He got in the car again and again, and escaped from his former home again and again.
He rarely thought about his scant childhood memories. The most profound memories for him were the journeys to his new home, the countless flashes of light and shadow passing through the car windows. This time, he recalled the journey in the fog many years ago, when he vomited on his brother. When his family first discovered he was carsick, they spoke to him repeatedly to ease his recurring discomfort. During this lengthy conversation, his mother asked him a question, "Shun'an, what do you want to be?"
Bai Shunan opened his eyes and calmly stared at the wall. It was empty, devoid of anything. When the pain faded, he remembered himself as a child, gazing out the car window. He still remembered the view, the answer that had come to him. Amidst the patter of rain, Bai Shunan whispered the words he had always remembered: "I want to be a bird, a bird that grows in a beautiful place."
After several days of continuous rain, the sun finally came.
Bai Shunan has become more and more nostalgic for dreams recently. Often when he is half asleep and half awake, he thinks he has done something very ordinary, but when he wakes up later, he finds that it was just his imagination in the dream.
In order to find fragments of yesterday's dream, Bai Shunan did not go out for work for the first time in a long time. Long before he arrived at the destination, his thoughts had already reached there. At first, he traveled non-stop to explore the capricious sky in his memory. Suddenly, he saw another ordinary sky. He looked out the window, and developed a desire to explore for a possibility that was elusive. Could his brother have also seen such a scenery?
Bai Shunan's heart stirred. Every time he thought of Bai Shunnian, he still felt the lingering lingering worries of years gone by. He couldn't tell if his feelings bore any resemblance to the longing he had felt so clearly years ago. He gazed at the changed landscape, knowing full well he could no longer sit on that swing. He saw a familiar figure looming ahead, now nearing, now receding.
Every New Year's visit to his mother, while he wondered if he might run into her, he also wondered why he couldn't see her face in that black and white photograph, as if that wasn't her home. He always thought he'd awaken something, but in the end, there was nothing left for him to imagine. His thoughts were like a boat that couldn't reach shore, yet somehow, it was enveloped in a kind of inclusiveness that offset his lost frustration. Ever since last year's visit, Bai Shunan had often thought of the dead branches, still capable of regeneration. Though surrounded by the scent of gunpowder and earth, as he stood there, he seemed to smell the dampness of the early morning mist.
He leaned on her back, about to fall asleep, and wanted his mother to tie his hat for him, so he pretended to untie the rope again and again, as if the wind had blown open the simple bow. Every time his mother stopped the car to tighten his hat for him and covered his ears, he could always smell the moist scent of the mist.
Sometimes, the hat would be blown onto the frost-covered road, roll around a few times and then come to a stop. When you turned back to look for it, you would never find it again.
When he saw a grape leaf swaying in the wind this time, Bai Shunan forgot the way he had come. He looked up at the green leaf with some yellowing and black spots, which was still full of new vitality like a tender bud, fluttering in the air with its grace, which was no longer the weight given by memories and dreams.
He turned and left, raising some dust in the wind, which blew up the corners of his thin clothes and swayed him in a hazy dream.
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