Pastel Colours - Chapter 2

Day0119:11

Songran’s evaluation of 8012B has fallen below a new historical low-this family grows flowers as they please, and raises children even more as they please.

At seven o’clock in the evening, my mother was nowhere to be seen. My father flew 10,000 kilometers away on a business trip. The housekeeper neglected his duty. He posted a leave note on the door and slipped the number. The name was only nine characters. Back-Huang Guihua).

The little boy in this family is only four years old. After the kindergarten, he couldn’t wait for the babysitter to pick him up. He wandered along the boulevard for two hours alone—walking for an hour, squatting outside the pet shop with a dog Big Golden Retriever clapped his hands through the glass for half an hour, then sneaked into the cinema to watch the trailer of the same Disney cartoon for half an hour.

He wandered around like this to kill time, taking a look at the traffic-ridden street from time to time, wanting to wait for someone to take him home. But the setting sun finally sank, the sound of the wind became rapid, and the street lamps lit up one by one, lengthening the shadows on the soles of the feet.

He reluctantly returned to Bishuiwanju, and didn’t have the courage to walk into the dark home, so he sat hungry on the door blanket of 8012A, talking to the immobile chipmunk, crackling and crying.

If Songran didn’t come out to water the flowers, the child might really be able to stay at the door all night.

The boy Ranran’s classmate’s love and anger exploded at the same time, and without hesitation, he took the poor baby back home.

The baby whose surname is He, whose name is He Yueyang, and whose nickname is Bubu, is sitting at the dining table of Songran’s house, with a white canvas on his chest, and two sharp corners of the cloth make a beautiful look on the back of the neck. Bow.

He poked his head hard and looked eagerly toward the kitchen.

The fragrant smell of food floated out, the pot was blocked by Songran, and even the shadow was invisible. He was anxious, his round buttocks pouted, and he refused to sit still for half a second, as if the chair was covered with wax. On the sofa not far away, the puppet cat was looking at him in the posture of a peasant farmer, his light gray tail flicking twice from time to time.

“Brother, Bubu is hungry, want to eat…”

He acted softly to Songran, rubbing his belly while sniffing, indicating that he was really hungry.

Songran opened the heat to heat the oil, smashed an egg and broke it into the pot. After holding a shovel, he jumped a few steps and poked his head out of the kitchen: “Wait a minute, it will be ready soon!”

By the way, he threw his hand and put the eggshell into the trash can.

“Oh!”

Bubu lowered his head, bit the canvas in one bite, dangling into his mouth, bulging his cheeks, twisting his hips even more jubilantly.

On the flow table, the shallow open bowl is cold with asparagus and shrimp porridge. In the pan, the wooden shovel turned the yellow poached egg over.

When the child was growing up, Songran was worried that the porridge would not be nutritious, and took two minutes to fry a poached egg. Taking into account the taste, he deliberately fry it into a half-boiled soft-boiled egg, sprinkle it with salt and put it on a plate. The bowl comes out together.

He scooped up a spoonful of porridge, blew it to the cold, and handed it to Bobo’s mouth, remembering something temporarily, and then retracted the spoon a little: “Have you eaten shrimp before?”

Bubu nodded, “Eat it.”

That’s good, there should be no seafood allergy.

Song Ran put his heart down and passed the spoon. Boob swallowed the mountains and rivers, opened his mouth wide and bit the porridge with a spoon, giggled at him mischievously, laughed for a while before letting go, and ate the porridge with relish.

Songran wiped the corners of the child’s mouth with the canvas and scooped up another shrimp. This time Bobu shook his head and refused to open his mouth.

He said proudly, “Brother, I can eat myself!”

The small spoon touched the porcelain bowl with a crisp sound.

Ding, ding, ding.

Songran also served himself a bowl of porridge, sat next to him, and watched Bobo eating with interest.

The child is not fast, but is surprisingly organized, the height of the shrimp porridge is almost reduced in proportion to the size of the poached egg. Fifteen minutes later, he sucked up the yolk of the heart-wrenching egg, swallowed the last bit of egg white, and burped a little satisfyingly, with a circle of funny egg juice on his lips.

There was only a shallow bottom of the porridge in the bowl. Just as Songran thought about getting up to clean it up, Bubu suddenly became nervous, sat upright, took the small bowl into his arms, and hurriedly scooped a small spoon into his mouth.

He ate very carefully this time, scooping only two or three grains per spoon, and chewing slowly, as if the few grains of rice had something special.

Songran asked him, “Is it delicious?”

Bubu nodded.

Songran asked again: “Are you full?”

Bubu hurriedly hugged the small bowl, his head shook like a rattle.

How can you answer that you are full? When he is full, there is no reason to stay at his brother’s house. He will be a sensible and obedient child and go to sleep in his dark home. But he is the only person in the family, alone, not as bright here, not as warm as here.

Eat two more bites.

Eat two more bites and you can stay for a while longer.

The child’s eyes are clear glass, hiding a heart that can’t lie. Songran saw how nervous he was, and understood everything that should be understood. He laughed, and said softly to Bubu: “We are not in a hurry to eat, we should save a little appetite, and we will eat fruit later.”

Bobu didn’t need to leave as soon as he heard it, his eyes brightened, and he threw away the small spoon.

After dinner, Songran took off the canvas on Bobo’s neck, took him to the bathroom to rinse his mouth, wash his hands, dry every finger gap with a white towel, and then apply a layer of Dabao hand cream.

The cloth was very well-behaved throughout the whole process, spread out his fingers, and placed it flat in front of Songran, and said politely after wiping, “Thank you, brother.”

A particularly sensible child.

Songran always feels that there is an obvious restraint in his sensibility, especially his eyes, with a nervous sense of anxiety and waiting to be evaluated, like a well-trained puppy, if he fails to do it at the right time If you perform appropriate actions, you will not get rewards from the owner.

why?

Is it because you are at a stranger’s house, so you behave more cautiously than usual? Or does he think too much?

Song Ran can’t be sure.

However, when they came to the living room, Bubu finally yelled “Wow” and opened his eyes wide, showing the joyful expression of a child as Songran expected.

“Brother, you have so many fairy tale books here!”

He pointed at the coffee table and looked up at Song Ran excitedly.

On the sofa, coffee table and floor in the living room, there are nearly a hundred picture books of children’s stories scattered all over the place. There are individual books, series, domestic and foreign ones.

Since I moved to Bishuiwan Residence, I have a spacious and bright living room, so Songran doesn’t have to paint in a small cramped room like before. He moved the workbench to the floor-to-ceiling window in the living room, and when he was studying the books, he picked up one and put aside one, and put it away randomly. Anyway, there was no visitor, so he never bothered to clean it up.

These picture books with pen, paper and paint are all the things Songran depends on for survival.

Bubu saw Yishui’s storybook, his eyes gleamed, like a mouse falling into a rice tank, looking at the posture, he planned to mix and eat for the rest of his life and wait for death. In nearly a hundred dazzling covers, he discovered “The Chipmunk’s Dream” at first sight.

There are many similar chipmunks in this world, but for Boob, this is only unique.

It is an old friend of Bubu.

A month ago, this chipmunk magically came to the door of 8012A, and happened to have a face-to-face encounter with Bubu who was out early in the morning. It has light chestnut-colored back lines, thin and pointed claws, black bean-like eyes, and two exaggerated cheek pouches. It squats in a tall pile of pine cones, with a large golden parasol sea in the background.

Boob fell in love with it at first sight, thinking about it day and night.

When he goes to kindergarten in the morning, he has to say hello to the chipmunk (I’m leaving), and when he comes back from kindergarten in the evening, he also has to say hello to the chipmunk (I’m back). Occasionally, when his father is not at home, Bubu feels lonely, so he sneaks out while the babysitter is not paying attention, sits beside the chipmunk and strokes its fluffy fur, asking him to comfort him.

The tufts are warm, and the chipmunks printed on them look real.

Bubu even thought: If he has a live chipmunk, it feels…it’s almost like this.

It is an interesting and loyal friend who stays in place 24 hours a day, always colorful and full of spirits. It has a bunch of crunchy pine cones that you can’t finish eating, and a golden autumn that the sun can never finish.

This frozen picture on the door blanket is a cover that cannot be opened.

Boob read it for a whole month.

Tonight, the cover was finally opened, and he was pleasantly surprised to see that on the title page, the familiar old friend changed an action-it stood up, held a large pine cone in his hand, and looked into the distance with his head.

A simple handwritten signature was printed on the paper page it looked at.

Song Ran.

Bubu was still illiterate on this day, and his attention was all on the chipmunk, so naturally, he skipped this friendly name, which will be called for many years in the future, and turned directly to the next page.

The next page is where the story begins.

The golden sycamore leaves fell to the ground, and the little chipmunk lay in the autumn sun, dozing lazily-what interesting and rare things will it encounter?

I really want to know.

Bubu plucked up the courage, holding the picture album and asking Songran: “Brother, can you tell me this story?”

Songran readily agreed: “Okay.”

Tableware can be collected later, and fruits can be washed later. The baby said to listen to the story, so this is the most important thing right now.

The fabric sofa sank deeply, and Bubu sat on Songran’s lap, leaning on his arms, and opened his dream album. Seeing this, the big hairy dumpling Budoudou next to it, meowed jealously, rolled his belly down from the armrest and lay beside them.

“Once upon a time, there was a big forest, and there lived a cute chipmunk in the forest.”

Songran opened his mouth to recite the first line, and Bubu focused his attention, staring at every detail of the picture.

This story is so familiar to Song Ran, as long as you close your eyes, every painting and every line of words will turn into a stream of fireflies in the summer night, fluttering and floating in front of his eyes.

This chipmunk is playful and lazy.

Autumn is coming, its neighbor grey squirrel is busy collecting pine cones and preparing to collect food for the winter, but the chipmunk squatted on the branch to play with the caterpillars. Slowly, autumn passed and winter was coming. The gray squirrel filled half of the room with pine cones, and the chipmunk was still swinging with its tail hanging from the branch.

The gray squirrel asked: “When will you start picking pine cones?”

The chipmunk replied: “No hurry, no hurry. I have a dream, I want to find the largest pine cone in the world, just one, it will be enough for me not to go hungry all winter.”

Finally, winter is here.

When the first heavy snow fell, the gray squirrel’s pine cones just filled the room, but what about the chipmunks?

There is no pine cone in the chipmunk’s house.

It was hungry, so he set out to find the biggest pine cone in the legend, but there was so much snow outside, where could the shadow of the pine cone be seen?

When the chipmunk heard that the rabbit had a big pine cone, he went to the door. But the pine cone of the rabbit’s house was used as a beautiful locker, full of carrots.

“No way, no way, how can I eat someone else’s locker?”

The chipmunk shook his head and left the rabbit’s house hungry.

He heard that the hedgehog’s house had a big pine cone, so he went to the door. But the pine cones of Hedgehog’s house are regarded as a beautiful Christmas tree, full of colorful gifts.

“No way, no way, how can I eat someone else’s Christmas tree?”

The chipmunk shook his head and left the hedgehog’s house hungry.

He heard that there was a big pine cone in the Ant’s house, so he went to the door. But the pine cones at Ant’s house are regarded as a beautiful playground filled with happy ant babies.

“No way, no way, how can I eat other people’s playground?”

The chipmunk shook his head and left the ant’s house hungry.

The chipmunk searched for a long, long time, until the end, it failed to find the largest pine cone in the world. It came home dejectedly, grumbled with hunger. At this moment, the neighbor grey squirrel came and knocked on the door. It asked the chipmunk: “Has your dream come true?”

The chipmunk shook his head embarrassedly.

“Next year, it will definitely happen next year!”

It assured the gray squirrel, but his stomach screamed louder and louder.

The gray squirrel took out a huge pine cone from behind, held it in front of the chipmunk, and said to it, “I will give you this pine cone. This is not the largest pine cone in the world, nor the largest pine cone in the forest. Fruit, just the biggest pine cone in my family.”

The chipmunk took the pine cone and hugged it in his arms, feeling as if he had got a locker, a Christmas tree, a playground, and a best friend.

He thought, this must be the largest pine cone in the world.

“and after?”

Bobo turned another page, the picture book was closed, and a bar code was stamped on the squirrel’s tail on the back cover, announcing the end of the story.

He still had questions in his mind, so he asked: “Brother, did the chipmunk eat the pine cones later?”

Songran never thought about this question. He squeezed his chin and pondered it for a while, and answered honestly: “I don’t know, but I guess he should have saved the pine cones-it was a gift from a friend. ”

“But if the food is not eaten quickly, it will go bad immediately, for example…” Bubu racked his brains, “for example donut (donuts)!”

An English word came out casually.

“Then eat it.” Songran smiled, “In fact, it doesn’t matter whether you eat it or not, as long as your friends are there, there will always be gifts.”

“Yes!”

Boob thinks it makes sense-as long as the gray squirrel is a neighbor, the chipmunk will definitely receive more pine cones in the future.

His mood suddenly relaxed, and he lay in Songran’s arms holding “The Chipmunk’s Dream”, squinted and smiled: “Brother, your story is so good, much better than what your mother-in-law tells. Mother-in-law doesn’t like it. Tell me stories. They are always very fast, very impatient, and have a little accent. I can’t understand… Brother, do you often tell stories?”

Songran scratched the back of his head: “Uh, it’s okay.”

Roughly speaking, it has been more than seven years since the last time he told a story to his children, and his skill has not diminished, which is gratifying.

Boob got up while rolling, put down “The Chipmunk’s Dream”, grabbed a new picture book, and held it to Songran expectantly: “Brother, you tell me one more, okay?”

Songran raised his head to look at the wall clock. The pointer was close to nine o’clock. The baby was only four years old. It was time to take a bath and go to bed.

He pointed to the moon, flying carpet and chimney on the cover and said, “Bobo, this is a bedtime story. You can have a sweet dream only if you listen to it before going to bed. Let’s eat fruit first and go to bed later. Speak, OK?”

Boob was obviously taken aback.

He held the picture book in his arms, his eyes were dumb, and he couldn’t believe his ears. It took a long time to realize that Song Ran was inviting him to stay overnight, and immediately nodded in ecstasy: “Okay, okay!”

Songran bent down and took out a card book from the drawer of the coffee table. It was “The Hungry Caterpillar” by Eric Carle. He collected a complete set of original hardcover editions of the old man’s early works, and he turned them out for worship when he had time. This article is particularly simple and classic. It is about a little caterpillar who eats various foods every day. From Monday to Sunday, it finally grows into a big butterfly.

He asked Bubu: “You can read English, right?”

Bubu nodded and said, “Yeah.”

Songran put the booklet on his lap, touched the top of his head, and said with a smile: “I’m going to wash some strawberries. The little caterpillar will chew the book here for a while. Be obedient.”

“Well, it must be obedient.”

Bu Bu sweetly agreed.

At 8:50 in the evening, the pots and pans in the kitchen were jingling, and the mint-flavored dishwashing liquid made a ball of white bubbles.

Songran was brushing the bowl, humming an unknown little tune in his mouth, and Bubu was lying on the sofa, turning pages one by one, with a small strawberry in his mouth. The caterpillar in the book has a very good appetite. It ate smoothly from Monday to Saturday. Just when it was about to pupate and transform into butterflies, a string of cute bells rang in the living room.

“Pika Pika-Pi-Ka-Chu! Pickup-Pi-Ka-Chu!”

Bubu’s eyes lit up: “Ah, it’s Dad!”

He quickly jumped off the sofa, pulled out a children’s mobile phone from his schoolbag, pressed the answer button, and yelled into the microphone sweetly, “Good morning, Diba!”

Pull out?

Song Ran frowned slightly.

It was the fourth sound just now, and it became the second sound in the blink of an eye. How good this child is.

He turned his head and saw that Bubu was holding his mobile phone, jumping while chatting, and his feet made a series of small, brisk steps. The big hair dumpling followed behind with his tail cocked, one person and one cat lapped around the table twice, and finally twisted back to the sofa.

Songran smiled and shook his head, and continued to wash the bowls carefully. Halfway through, Boob suddenly came in with his head: “Brother, what is the name of the green one we ate just now, a little bit?”

Song Ran said: “Asparagus.”

“asparagus!”

Bubu hurriedly conveyed to his father on the phone, and asked, “Where is the red one?”

Songran said: “Shrimp.”

“Shrimp! Shrimp!”

Bubu was very happy, and repeated it twice to the phone, for fear that his father could not understand it. After a while, he said: “In addition to the porridge, there is also a poached egg. My brother fried it specially for me. It is very fragrant and more fragrant than my mother-in-law fried!”

Then a question was thrown on the other side. Bubu hesitated and couldn’t answer. He pattered and ran for nearly two steps, holding the phone to Songran: “Dad asked me why my brother is cooking today, not Mother-in-law?”

I am ashamed to ask.

The corner of Songran’s mouth curled up, and she slandered: Your nanny Huang Guihua has slipped out of her account. You, a parent, don’t know until now, you don’t care about it?

His two hands were covered with foam and could not hold the phone, so he bent down, motioned for Bubu to put the phone on his shoulder, tilted his head and clamped it with his ears, stood up and continued to wash the bowl.

“Hello, hello.”

Songran said hello formulaically.

Three seconds later, his movements suddenly stiffened, and the porcelain bowl in his hand fell off with a scream.

Bubu exclaimed: “Brother!”

Songran shrugged off the steel wire ball when she was electrocuted, grabbed the towel next to her and wiped her hand indiscriminately, eager to remove the phone from her ear. In the chaos, the phone accidentally dropped and fell onto the flow table, spinning slowly for half a circle.

Songran stared at it, the blood vessels were dilated, his cheeks were hot, his neck and ears were red.

The other party actually only said a word.

Ten words.

“Hello, I am He Yueyang’s father.”

This is the first time Songran heard He Zhiyuan’s voice.

Low and **** tone, because the owner of the voice has just awakened from his sleep and brought a lazy smile, so close, biting words against his ears, a warm incense wind blowing between his lips and teeth, blowing over the eardrums, let Songran The unsuspecting heart throbbed.

“…”

Fast heartbeat and hypoxia in the brain.

Song Ran’s scalp was suddenly crisp, don’t say anything, he didn’t even remember his name or name.