Bian Xiaoshuang often feels that love and marriage have been turned into glass bullets and probabilities that cost five yuan a handful at the east end of the market. Small nails smash into the cardboard, silk threads are wound into tracks, and a bead is thrown from the top of the waterfall. It either falls into the money jar and is reunited, or hits the ground to cause wailing. Her paper plates, silk threads and nails must be very dense. From the time she started to be sensible with a layer of fluffy milk hair on her head, to the tolerance she held for opening the hotel door to welcome guests, she even watched Tao Nanlu stepping into the room step by step. Her tolerance and patience to clean at any time made her net look dazzling. Beads fell into it and rolled into the trail opened by the predecessors, and suddenly disappeared without a trace.
Tao Nanlu looked at Bian Xiaoshuang's waistline that had flowed down smoothly due to inertia when she was leaning against the glass door. The greasy and tangled hair on her back was slightly curled and had a blue-gray texture. Tao Nanlu couldn't figure out where her glass beads rolled before disappearing, but she stroked them downward along the silk thread. Oh, dead end, Bian Xiaoshuang burned the back of her hand with the shaken cigarette ashes. It is not yet possible to understand and straighten out her silk road, and the mystery of the starting point and the end point has not yet been solved. She just stands clean and bright, with heeled slippers everywhere, a wide-shouldered dress that does not show off her figure, and a string of five-yuan glass bracelets on her hands, but she wants people to understand the cause and effect.
Tao Nanlu thought that perhaps the success rate of glass projectiles was not as exaggerated as the 100% guaranteed profit. People who tried this clever yet vulgar method of attracting customers would not suffer a second time. But she stood in front of the rain curtain and was beaten by the wind. The glass reflected a shallow and superficial reflection. She put out the fire, turned off the lights, and fell back to the blue-gray painting plate. Bian Xiaoshuang finally found her own booth. The lines and veins emphasized in the strokes all return to the center of the line of sight, the original position of the accelerated heartbeat - the eyes that were willing to turn back and stare at her quietly. The bead theory that the starting point and the end point are flush can be solved in this way. She saw the non-existent 0% and heard a "dong" echo from the happy money jar. It was empty. Victory turned out to be lonely.
Bian Xiaoshuang turned out to be just lonely.
-
Painter of a down-and-out daughter × hotel owner
Double heroines: Tao Nanlu-Bian Xiaoshuang
Supporting roles: Wu Hui, Jing Baiqiu, Yin Yin, Xin Yi
-
Lightning protection/early warning:
Emotional state and physical aspects are not both clean, so get away with mysophobia
The ending may be tragic. If you have BE phobia, run away.
Works made on the spur of the moment may be a big trap, so run away quickly.
Intention: Escape quickly