Pastel Colours

Day0405:00

At five o'clock in the morning the next day, the sky was bright, and the alarm clock buried under the pillow rang. The owner who hadn't slept all night pressed it off, got out of bed lightly and went to the kitchen to prepare breakfast.

Bubu wants to drink thick, thick and sweet porridge, it takes longer than usual.

The weather in April was still quite cold. Songran was wearing a fur coat, washing the rice in cold water, leaving the pot to rest, and setting the cooking clock on the oven for half an hour. In the process of soaking the rice, he warmed his hands, held up the cute bright yellow children's mobile phone, and walked around in the kitchen, trying to press it, but he didn't dare to press it.

He also wants to fight for another chance.

Songran has an unfounded sense of trust in Mr. He, and feels that he is not an arbitrary and unrelenting man. As long as he sincerely apologizes, act like spoiled and pleaded like before, Mr. He is tolerant and may be willing to let him take care of Bubu. There are too many shadows of the past in Bubu. It's okay that he didn't see it before. Once he saw it, he really couldn't let it go.

Of course, this is not the only thing he can't let go of, but another one that he hasn't noticed yet.

He wanted to hear He Zhiyuan's voice.

It was a subtle, eager, and unspeakable sentiment that grew up in three short telephone conversations—a young man living alone met a mature strange man. The child whose heart is injured by the youth has not been comforted yet. The man is a father, and his laughter is a kind of pampering for young children, like spreading a pair of warm wings, sheltering Xiao Songran from his childhood.

This throbbing has just begun to sprout, perhaps not as love, but full of attachment that is hard to give up.

In essence, Songran is still a child lacking love, unable to let go of the care from his father.

He tossed over the time difference three times and determined that it was two o'clock in the afternoon on Mr. He's side, which was suitable for answering the phone, so he held his breath and pressed the dial button.

"Beep—Beep—"

The phone dialed, and the ring tone rang twice. Before Songran put the phone in his ear, the ring tone suddenly stopped.

Four words popped up on the screen: call failed.

The other party did not hesitate for a second, and directly chose to hang up.

Songran was expressionless, staring at the four characters for a long time, until the screen was completely dark, reflecting a pale face. The fingers under the apron gradually curled up and made a fist, and the fingertips touched the palms, making a chill.

Pour the white rice into the soup pot and add six times the amount of boiling water. The fire is boiling, dripping oil, then turn to a small fire. The faint flames jumped upwards and began to simmer slowly. Songran used a wooden spatula to stir in circles until the rice grains were full and the congee noodles became sticky, and a string of thick and thick bubbles emerged from "pulupulu".

At half past six, he made a second call to He Zhiyuan, this time the other party hung up faster, and even the ringtone only rang once.

Songran was startled, and his humiliating anger instantly filled his chest. A few seconds later, he slammed the shovel with rice grains into the sink: "Being a person must have basic politeness. This is what you said! Politeness! It's just... just answer the phone first, and then tell me to **** off, instead of not even answering the phone!"

He was aroused and pressed the dial button again.

This time I couldn't even hear the ringing tone at all, and only a cold mechanical female voice responded to him-I'm sorry, the phone you dialed has been turned off.

Songran put his hands on the Liuli platform and slowly lowered his head, feeling the overwhelming self-disgust hitting him.

Really...it's been a long time.

It's been a long time since I was disliked by a person like this.

Children born in orphanages are prone to a heart disease-lack of self-confidence. Songran stayed in that big dye tank for ten years, and did not escape the fate of self-depreciation. When he first left the orphanage, his whole set of social communication concepts had been problematic, his mentality was so bad that he was close to moderate depression.

Later, when I arrived in S City, Songran settled down closer to F University. I went to the general elective course offered by the Department of Psychology when I had nothing to do. I spent a semester of self-recognition and emotional management among a bunch of gods. I went to chat with the professor and told my situation honestly. The professor is a very happy old man. He took him to the little pavilion in Xiyuan to chat for a while, which counted as a preliminary psychological counseling, and gave him a big book list when he parted. It took Songran a few years to read carefully according to the book list, and wrote about a hundred pages of self-analysis, finally growing a little self-confident fur.

Although the fur is new and long, it is very hard and extremely wear-resistant.

In order to work hard for his livelihood, Songran has suffered from malice over the years, but his stubborn temperament, the harder his life, the more he understands the importance of optimism, on the contrary, like quenching real gold, he has tempered an extremely pleasing character. The aunts and sisters of the publishing house laughed when they saw him, touched their heads and rubbed their faces, hugged him, and pampered him as a mascot.

Songran knows his weight. He is not renminbi. How could it be liked by everyone? It is enough for most people I meet to like him. Just one or two dislikes are not worthy of consideration.

He has always thought so until today.

Until he discovered that he could not accept Mr. He's "dislike".

The negation from Mr. He became the weight that Songran's thin shoulders could not bear. A mere "can't" refusing to forgive, and just a tiresome shutdown, almost destroyed his hard-built fortress of confidence.

"Bobo, your father is really..." Songran looked up at the kitchen lamp, with a touch of sorrow and helplessness in her expression, "It's really... too powerful."

White marble dining table with beige cotton tablecloth. A bowl of thick white porridge, a plate of cucumber with clear sauce, a salted duck egg in red oil, and a pinch of old brand pork floss.

This is the easiest S city breakfast.

Bubu had a good appetite today. He was holding a small soup bowl and drank the porridge sweetly. The spoon scooped up a little salted egg yolk and put it in his mouth with a long "um" to show that the food was delicious. Halfway through the meal, Songran told him politely that his father had invited a new aunt for him. Starting today, the new aunt will be responsible for picking up Bobu.

Boob became unhappy and squirmed on the table: "No, no, I want my brother!"

Songran picked up a chopsticks and pork floss and put it into the bowl, deliberately making a mysterious look to tempt him: "This time the new aunt is different from the previous one. It was my father who took great pains to select it according to Bubu's preferences. ."

Bubu took a bite of the pickled cucumber and asked curiously, "What is that like?"

Songran described: "The new aunt is very beautiful, like a flower, she can tell fairy tales, and she can also make small wontons. She can do what her elder brother does, and she will do what her elder brother doesn't. She is even better than her elder brother. people."

"But I like my brother!"

Bubu jumped off the chair, walked around the dining table, and awkwardly climbed up to Song Ran's knees. The milky voice confessed to him: "I don't want a newer aunt, I just want my brother!"

The child has profound skills and is at the tenth level of love talk. Songran was captured by a word of him, and his body was warm and his heart turned into a pool of water. But Bubu showed a distressed look again, frowned and said, "But my aunt was picked by my father, and I want to listen to my father."

So worried.

The father is on the left and the brother is on the right. The four-year-old baby looks left and right, wanting both.

Songran couldn't help laughing, and took a peck on his forehead: "It's okay, you think, doesn't my brother live in the right door? The new aunt is here, and my brother won't move out, someday Bubu thinks Brother, come and knock on the door, and your brother will invite you in as a guest. We are still painting colors, listening to stories, and washing incense like these days."

As soon as Boob heard that he could cheat, he immediately opened his eyes and smiled, threw into Songran's ear and said excitedly: "Then I will sneak out to find you every day, so I don't let my father know, okay?"

"Good good!"

Songran fully agreed, and hooked his little finger with Bubu.

After breakfast, Bubu and Songran went downstairs together, climbed into the back seat of the bicycle, and acted as a majestic little general, commanding his brother to ride an S-shaped trajectory and walk steadily towards the kindergarten.

When passing by the graffiti wall, Bubu pointed to a row of colorful geometric figures and said roundly: "Square, rectangle, circle, triangle, trapezoid!"

"Boob is awesome, I read everything right!"

Songran praised him.

Yesterday, I confided in it. This kid is naturally smart, and he will remember it all at once.

Bobo was commended, and continued his efforts, pointing to the row of unique English letters at the back and saying: "A, B, C, D, E, F, G..."

Under He Zhiyuan’s ears and eyes, Bubu’s English pronunciation is very standard. Songran feels ashamed and unassumingly praises him: "Bubu reads really well."

Behind the letters is a row of Arabic numerals, each of which is drawn into an animal shape, very cute. Bubu has been praised twice, so he read out louder: "One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine...Oh!"

The bicycle slammed into a sudden stop, and Bubu hit Songran's back with his head, his small face was squeezed into a ball of flesh.

Songran scolded herself in her heart, and kept busy, looking back at him worriedly: "Does it matter? Is there any pain?"

"No... Nothing." Bubu rubbed his face exaggeratedly, craned his neck, poked his head out and looked forward, "Brother stopped suddenly. Did he hit something?"

But the road ahead was empty, and Bubu didn't see anything.

"It's strange."

He let out a sigh.

Songran didn't know how to explain his abnormality, and was nervous. A small tabby cat unexpectedly rushed out of the road and ran away along the red wall of the old house. Bubu thought he had found the answer, and chuckled: "It turned out to be a kitty, my brother is so careful!"

Songran finally breathed a sigh of relief, rang the crisp bicycle bell, and rode Bubu to the kindergarten.

After sending the child to the kindergarten that day, Songran did not leave immediately. He stood outside the garden gate, watched the cloth bounce into the hall, handed the small schoolbag and children's mobile phone to the teacher, changed his shoes, turned and ran to the classroom, disappearing behind the entrance glass.

Songran thought, his fate with this child probably ends here, except for the accidental loss of control, these three days... are actually very beautiful.

I hope there will be a chance to hug Bobu in the future, and I hope that one day in the future, when he meets Mr. He in the aisle, he will have the opportunity to say sorry in person.

Young children passed by one after another. Some were sent by father, some were sent by mother, and some were sent by grandparents. Songran looked at their vigorous little faces, lowered his head and smiled, kicked his pedals, and rode out of the kindergarten.

At the moment he left, the children's mobile phone in the teacher's hand rang.

today is Thursday.

SwordArcInc will hold a regular meeting of department heads from two to three in the afternoon every Thursday. Due to the imminent launch of the new generation of Q7, S7, and T7 products, the company had too many affairs to coordinate, and the regular meeting was extended to 5 pm.

When the meeting reached the last item on the agenda, He Zhiyuan took out his mobile phone and pressed the power button.

When his university roommate and entrepreneurial partner Carl Kraus asked him if he needed to make a statement, He Zhiyuan exchanged views with the subordinates of the Ministry of Technology and shook his head and gave a negative answer.

In the first second after the projector cut off the signal and the meeting announced the end, he pressed the call button.

The circular meeting room restored the relaxed atmosphere, dozens of seats pushed back one after another, and the VPs closed the folders and got up and left with the coffee cups. A German engineer walked to He Zhiyuan with a final test report on sensor compatibility and said that there were several items that needed to be communicated with him separately.

He Zhiyuan held the phone, pressed his palm slightly, and politely explained: "Housework, wait a minute."

The other party replied with an understanding smile, stepped back a few steps, and made a gesture of please. He Zhiyuan then got up and walked to the floor-to-ceiling windows filled with sunlight.

As a qualified technical senior, he should actually lead by example and avoid dealing with personal affairs during working hours, but he convinced himself that this call is related to his children and belongs to the highest priority among parallel tasks and deserves to be treated with tolerance. .

While waiting for the connection, perhaps the sun was too blazing, and a little sweat appeared on the palm of his hand.

He knew that the two previous calls that had been hung up must have been made, and even the motive could be roughly guessed. In fact, after he finished saying the word "can't" last night, the moment his lonely voice hit his ears, he immediately softened his heart-young people are always prone to impulsiveness, and they will inevitably be more reckless when speaking. It is not such an unforgivable mistake. .

At that time, he wanted to give Songran a chance, so he didn't hang up the phone for a long time. He just waited for Songran to explain.

Unfortunately, Songran didn't speak at that time, so he chose to call during today's meeting.

He has no choice but to hang up.

Hanging up is a very emotionally hurtful behavior. Due to lack of communication, it is likely to cause unnecessary serious misunderstandings. As the one who actively refused, He Zhiyuan thought he had to explain clearly.

The phone was connected, and He Zhiyuan's time was short. Before the other party could speak, he said, "Song Ran, I'm so sorry just now. I'm in a meeting here and it's not suitable for answering the phone. Let's talk about Boob in the evening, can we?"

There seemed to be a little surprised. After a few seconds of blanking, he heard the kindergarten teacher's voice: "Hello, are you the parents of He Yueyang?"

He Zhiyuan was taken aback: "Yes."

He quickly raised his wrist, his gaze swept across the dial-five ten in the afternoon, which is eight in the morning in China. The kindergarten opens at 8 o'clock, which is neither early nor late. It is estimated that Bubu has just been sent to the kindergarten.

He was a step late.

The teacher was unsure of his intentions and asked: "He Yueyang has already entered the classroom. Do you need to talk to him?"

"No, just get to school safely." He Zhiyuan replied briefly, "Teacher has worked hard."

After a few greetings, he hung up the phone, turned around and put away the laptop on the table, and motioned the waiting German engineer to go to the small conference room next door to discuss the problem.

After passing by with Songran twice, He Zhiyuan had a rare irritability.

From the original intention, he had no intention of hurting the sensitive young man, but the explanation that could not be conveyed made him fall into guilt and anxiety, and even the overtime task tonight seemed onerous.