Chapter 67: Qingluo Fu Xingyi
Chapter 67: Qingluo Fu Xingyi (Wishing all the college entrance examination students success)
When the bell rang, three or five boys huddled together at the door, like red blood cells clogged in blood vessels. With a shout, they all rushed into the door.
"Tian Zijun, your school uniform!" "Throw it over here!" The red scarf fluttered into the air and then swung down weakly; the tall boy jumped to the front of the podium, picked up the eraser and waved it in front of the blackboard like a Guandao.
"Are you going to die? Can't you just wipe it gently?" A girl at the table in front of her pinched her nose and said coquettishly. The boy walked up to the girl with an expressionless face and clapped his hands like a weightlifter patting talcum powder. The girl lowered her head and sneezed, then turned around and hit the boy.
A man and a woman at the table in front were moving a pile of books. The one on the left moved one centimeter to the right, and the one on the right moved two centimeters to the left. In the end, the girl got anxious and grabbed the boy's clothes and moved him left and right.
The bright sunshine shines into the classroom, the breeze lifts the curtains, and the ceiling fan above seems to turn monotonously and tirelessly, just like youth that seems to never end.
Wang Zixu rested his forehead on the edge of the table and looked down at the floor. The table was filled with books, and the top layer was "Ordinary World", which was open and stopped at the part where Sun Shaoping borrowed a book from Hao Hongmei. He would secretly read it during class.
He traveled back in time. He traveled back to when he was seventeen. He was still in high school at the time. But he couldn't control his body to move even a centimeter, nor could he make his vocal cords make any sound. He couldn't change anything he saw, just like youth couldn't be changed.
"Hey." A pleasant voice came to his ears, and Wang Zixu felt a poke under his left ribs, "Let go."
He raised his head, and there was a mark on his forehead from the edge of the table. The bright sunlight cast a halo around the girl, and every turn of her outline in the backlight was beautiful and natural, but her face was not clear.
"Please beg me." Wang Zixu heard his own voice saying.
"Will you let me go?" The girl tried to make her voice sound cold, but her natural voice made her sound like she was acting like a spoiled child. Her baby-like voice made it hard to take anything she said seriously.
"Just answer my questions correctly and I'll let you go." Wang Zixu heard himself say.
"ask."
"Name three French writers."
The prince listened to her talking with great interest. At that time, he was young, immature, competitive, and knew nothing about girls' minds.
“Proust, Camus, Marguerite Duras.”
Wang Zixu saw himself waving his hands and said, "It doesn't count! You did it on purpose, didn't you? You deliberately mentioned some writers I haven't read."
The girl said, "You haven't even finished reading Remembrance of Things Past, and you're still thinking about me?"
"What book? Remembrance of Things Past, right? I'll tell you after I finish reading it tomorrow."
The girl waved her hand gently: "Go ahead, go ahead, come on."
Wang Zixu was very ashamed. At the age of 30, he still hadn't finished reading the book.
He remembered. The girl at that time had a reading volume that was far beyond his reach. Until now, he could only look at her from afar, like a dog looking at the moon in the sky.
Wang Zixu stood up. The girl he had just looked up at was now a head shorter than him. The girl, who was only as tall as Wang Zixu's chest, didn't even raise her head, stared at his chest and said, "Move over quickly."
The prince opened his arms and said, "Come on."
Wang Zixu was ashamed again. He didn't know how he could have done such a scoundrelly act.
The girl was not angry, and asked him seriously at his chest: "How can I live like this?"
"Why not?" Wang Zixu felt the youthful spirit rising on his face.
"I'm not a four-dimensional bug." said the girl.
Then how did you crawl into my heart?
Wang Zixu recalled that he almost blurted out these words at that time.
Many years later, the 30-year-old Wang Zixu, who had written hundreds of thousands of words of romantic scripts, would only feel that this flirtatious remark that once made him proud was just a cheap and cheesy love remark. 10% of it was fake cleverness that only naive boys have, and the remaining 90% was hormones.
But at that age, he was so choked by this sentence that he almost blurted it out. If he blurted it out, it would cause an uproar and his life would be ruined. 17 years old is such a thrilling age.
He saw that he had moved aside and the girl looked up at him in confusion, as if wondering why he had let her go so easily today without saying a few dirty words as usual. Her dark eyelashes fluttered like a butterfly's wings.
She leaned in sideways, and was no more than one centimeter away from Wang Zixu's body. This position was close to hugging, but the two never had any physical contact. At most, their clothes touched. In the entire history since he knew her, he had never touched her with his body. At that time, she was almost his goddess, untouchable, inviolable, and unprofane. Just like the Yangshao people carefully cared for their pottery.
The 17-year-old Wang Zixu sat down without saying a word. He felt a little discouraged at this moment, so he secretly laughed at this naive young man in his heart.
Not long after the girl sat down, she was called out again: "Chen Qingluo, the teacher wants to see you."
"Oh."
This time, Wang Zixu did not make things difficult for her and let her go quietly.
But at this moment, the 30-year-old Wang Zixu hiding in his body wished he could stop her!
On this day, the teacher talked to Chen Qingluo about participating in the "New Sprout" literary competition, and then she won the prize. Then, her parents arranged for her to transfer to a more important high school, and then she was recommended to Yanda University.
He knew that from this moment on, the two of them would go on different paths in life, like two straight lines that would never intersect, heading in their own directions.
When the most important junctures and decisions in life occur, people often think that they are just an ordinary day in life. At that time, the ignorant prince did not know the pain of separation and did not even say goodbye to her properly. Many years later, this feeling turned into a memory, but at that time, it was still at a loss.
Yes. Wang Zixu and Chen Qingluo didn't have much in common. They were just classmates for a year and deskmates for half a month. Wang Zixu was just a passer-by in her life, but she left a lasting impression on Wang Zixu.
After she left, he frantically searched for books by various writers in the library, as if he wanted to follow in Chen Qingluo's footsteps. He read voraciously and soon took over the throne of the best Chinese language writer she had left behind.
Proust's "Remembrance of Things Past", Marguerite Duras's "The Lover" translated by Wang Daoqian, Camus's "The Outsider"... He read all the names mentioned by the girls one by one.
These writers will bring him more writers. Proust brought him James Joyce, Wang Daoqian brought him Mu Dan, Camus brought him Sartre...
And more writers brought him more writers: Tolstoy brought him Dostoevsky, brought him Nabokov, brought him Faulkner, brought him Hemingway, and then he had Neruda, Marquez, Borges, and Llosa.
Lu Xun brought him Dazai Osamu, and then brought him Oe Kenzaburo, Kawabata Yasunari, and then brought him Murakami Haruki, and Murakami Haruki brought him Fitzgerald and Raymond Chandler...
The books he had read were like branches that kept spreading, growing, and interweaving with each other, gradually becoming luxuriant and bearing flowers and fruits.
But the last glance that summer afternoon was the last time he and Chen Qingluo saw each other. She left Xihe, and he never saw her again.
"Hey, Lao Wang, what's wrong?" Xie Cong pushed Wang Zixu, asking him to return to the present moment and place.
"Ah, no." Wang Zixu shook his head, "Why do I have her contact information?"
Xie Cong said: "Weren't you getting along well with her at that time? At that time, everyone in the class was saying that you two were dating."
Wang Zixu shook his head: "Nonsense."
Lin Feng leaned over and asked, "Which Chen Qingluo are you talking about? Could it be the one from the Xihe Twins?"
Xie Cong smiled: "Yes, Ning Chunyan and Chen Qingluo, they are both talented women from our Xihe, but only people in Xihe call them the Twins of Xihe. I guess few people know that they are from the same place."
Lin Feng turned around and asked in surprise: "You two went to school together?"
Wang Zixu simply nodded: "Yes."
"They even sat at the same table!" Xie Cong said with a smile, "Chen Qingluo was originally sitting at the same table with me, but later she switched seats and sat at the same table with him. I was so mad at that time."
Wang Zixu drank some water and said nothing.
He had no recollection of what Xie Cong said.
Compared to Chen Qingluo, everything else about his life at the age of 17 seemed so unimportant.
Some names are definitely magical. Others will never know that just a name can allow him to travel back to the afternoon 13 years ago.
"Is Chen Qingluo as pretty as in the photo?" someone asked.
"It's better looking than that." Xie Cong said.
(End of this chapter)