There is a painting in the gallery of the famous painter Xu Jianxing that is not for public exhibition. It is hidden in his private studio and has been rarely seen by anyone.
Some people say that the painting represents the white moonlight of his youth, others say that the painting represents his distant hometown, and still others say that the painting represents the lonely and quiet inner world of this deaf painter.
*
Young Xu Jianxing had never opened his heart to anyone.
He cannot hear or speak,
In the long cold night, he faced a broken human world.
Until that girl with a ponytail suddenly broke into his world.
She touched the bruises on his body and explained to him topics that he couldn't hear clearly.
Whenever he was painting quietly, the girl always liked to smile up at him, as if all the sunshine was shining on her.
Later, one rainy day, his cochlea was snatched away, and she was so wet that she cried like a drowned rat and trembled all over.
Xu Jianxing had a stubborn look on his face, pursed his lips and typed indifferently on his mobile phone: Why are you crying? The worst thing is that you will get a new one.
Her face was covered with tears, and her lips were trembling when she spoke.
He understood her mouth shape, and she said: I don't want you to go back to a world where you can't hear.
Xu Jianxing's hands trembled slightly, and he finally wiped the tears from her face.
*
Reunion after many years, on a rainy night.
He saw the man who thought about it day and night from a distance.
Without a moment's hesitation, he took off his cochlea and hid it in his pocket. He threw the umbrella into the trash can and walked straight to her.
Type it on your mobile phone and show it to her [I am deaf, can you please be kind and send me home]
*
Food guide:
1. The male protagonist is deaf and will wear cochlea later.
2. Start writing in kindergarten
3. Double first love, healing cookies.
Intention: To heal the sweet and sour love song.
Reader comments
I cried when I saw it [crying] [crying] [crying] [crying] [crying] Will there be more updates [crying] [crying] [crying] [crying] [crying] [crying] [crying] [crying] [crying]
When will it be updated?
Every text has life and will be treated tenderly
Teacher, I now open your column and read it almost every day. I have read your "Pitch" copywriting and comment section N times. "Pitching" has not been updated recently. I have read the preview in the column several times. I am going to start reading your previous articles. I even plan to read "Pitching" from the beginning again. Although my idea is quite immoral, I still want to say that I really want to tie you to my side and force you to type on the keyboard every day. Please forgive me for this naive and bold idea. [Let me be healthy] This comes from a loyal fan who is crazy about "Pitch", loves it so much, laughs and cries for it every night, and wishes it would release 800 chapters a day. [Cat head]
This article has not opened paragraph comments. Alas, in the second paragraph, Xiaonuan sneaked into the corridor while my grandparents were sleeping, which awakened a similar memory in my childhood. It was probably fifteen or sixteen years ago, not long after my grandma took my brother and I back to the countryside. In my memory, the entire village was covered with birch trees, and cicadas lived among the branches, chirping in the blazing hot summer, venting their dissatisfaction with the scorching temperature that reached the skin. The sun's rays at noon were stronger than at any other time, and its shadow swayed in the air. The door of the old house is made of wood. Behind the door are two horizontal beams, which are placed on the vertical beams of the same tenon and rivet structure, making the simplest and strongest door lock. After lunch, my grandma took my brother and I to lie on the cold bamboo mat for a nap, with the small fan squeaking and turning. The children were full of energy, and their eyes were rolling in their sockets, without any hint of sleepiness. There was silence in the house, except for the sound of the clock ticking every minute. After a long time, my brother and I exchanged silent signals, shook my sleeping grandma to make sure she didn't react at all, quietly rolled out of bed, seized the opportunity, ran straight to the hall, and carried out the evil plan in my heart - to run towards the ditch in front of the neighbor's house. My brother blinked at me with his big eyes of joy. I slowed down my movements and slowly pulled the door latch out of the hole. It's almost, still almost, that I can see the moving world outside the door (well, it's actually a big stove that can bake me into a black potato). There must be tadpoles and small fish in the stream with water plants (there will also be water snakes, hiss, my scalp will be numb). I can't wait to touch the ice-cold stream water. I didn't touch the icy cold stream, but a big, icy, rough-textured hand quietly grabbed my collar, and my brother and I were ruthlessly dragged back to bed. I couldn't squeeze out a single tear from my eyes. Alas, goodbye, my "paradise".
Many years later, my grandma mentioned this incident to me. She said that she was actually pretending to be asleep at that time, and she had a good idea of what we were doing.
... No more updates... Sad?
I couldn't help but click in to take a look, it made my heart warm [crying], Abu will consider updating it [poor]
I cried when I saw it [crying] [crying] [crying] [crying] [crying] Will there be more updates [crying] [crying] [crying] [crying] [crying] [crying] [crying] [crying] [crying]
When will it be updated?
Every text has life and will be treated tenderly
Teacher, I now open your column and read it almost every day. I have read your "Pitch" copywriting and comment section N times. "Pitching" has not been updated recently. I have read the preview in the column several times. I am going to start reading your previous articles. I even plan to read "Pitching" from the beginning again. Although my idea is quite immoral, I still want to say that I really want to tie you to my side and force you to type on the keyboard every day. Please forgive me for this naive and bold idea. [Let me be healthy] This comes from a loyal fan who is crazy about "Pitch", loves it so much, laughs and cries for it every night, and wishes it would release 800 chapters a day. [Cat head]
This article has not opened paragraph comments. Alas, in the second paragraph, Xiaonuan sneaked into the corridor while my grandparents were sleeping, which awakened a similar memory in my childhood. It was probably fifteen or sixteen years ago, not long after my grandma took my brother and I back to the countryside. In my memory, the entire village was covered with birch trees, and cicadas lived among the branches, chirping in the blazing hot summer, venting their dissatisfaction with the scorching temperature that reached the skin. The sun's rays at noon were stronger than at any other time, and its shadow swayed in the air. The door of the old house is made of wood. Behind the door are two horizontal beams, which are placed on the vertical beams of the same tenon and rivet structure, making the simplest and strongest door lock. After lunch, my grandma took my brother and I to lie on the cold bamboo mat for a nap, with the small fan squeaking and turning. The children were full of energy, and their eyes were rolling in their sockets, without any hint of sleepiness. There was silence in the house, except for the sound of the clock ticking every minute. After a long time, my brother and I exchanged silent signals, shook my sleeping grandma to make sure she didn't react at all, quietly rolled out of bed, seized the opportunity, ran straight to the hall, and carried out the evil plan in my heart - to run towards the ditch in front of the neighbor's house. My brother blinked at me with his big eyes of joy. I slowed down my movements and slowly pulled the door latch out of the hole. It's almost, still almost, that I can see the moving world outside the door (well, it's actually a big stove that can bake me into a black potato). There must be tadpoles and small fish in the stream with water plants (there will also be water snakes, hiss, my scalp will be numb). I can't wait to touch the ice-cold stream water. I didn't touch the icy cold stream, but a big, icy, rough-textured hand quietly grabbed my collar, and my brother and I were ruthlessly dragged back to bed. I couldn't squeeze out a single tear from my eyes. Alas, goodbye, my "paradise". Many years later, my grandma mentioned this incident to me. She said that she was actually pretending to be asleep at that time, and she had a good idea of what we were doing.
... No more updates... Sad?
I couldn't help but click in to take a look, it made my heart warm [crying], Abu will consider updating it [poor]