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Text/Xiao Yimo (reprinted from pages 107-113 of the June issue of "The Minimum Story")

What was gained and what was lost? these years.

In that blurry fog, whose figure is still as clear as yesterday.

In summer, he held the collar of his white shirt with one hand and fanned it back and forth, vaguely revealing his abrupt collarbone.

He walked to a certain boy’s table, put one hand on his waist, and said slowly:

“Go downstairs and play basketball.”

Many years after graduating from that school, life suddenly became a wandering and wandering life.

I often sit alone in a car driving to a certain place, staring at the slowly passing scenery outside the window, and think of something without warning.

So I felt very disappointed and wanted to cry. But he once said to me:

"Don't cry."

When he transferred to our school, it was a rainy autumn morning in the second grade of junior high school.

The head teacher opened the door, followed by him who was tall and thin. He was carrying a black schoolbag and looked reluctant.

Always helped him make a simple opening statement, and then he stood in front of the podium and began to introduce himself.

"Hello everyone, I am Gao Wenbo, from high school, from Chinese language, from Ph.D." He said in rapid succession.

There was a burst of gentle laughter all around. He turned to look at the teacher, as if she was a life-saving straw. The head teacher condescendingly decided not to embarrass him anymore and let him sit in an empty seat next to me.

He dragged his loosely tied sneakers over, pulled out his chair, took off his school bag, and took out his textbook. His hair is cut very short and his eyebrows are slightly raised. When he listens, he seems to like to hold his chin with one hand and deliberately bulge one cheek, as if to show that he is thinking seriously about the problem and not to disturb others.

Scattered rain knocked on the glass window, and he was lying on the table copying borrowed notes. At that moment, I felt that he was lonely.

The physical education teacher was wearing sportswear and drawing white lines on the playground. The sun was very bright and reflected shadows of different shapes on the floor. Gao Wenbo and several boys were playing PSP online in the back corner of the classroom, making noises from time to time. Outgoing and gregarious. His advantage is that he doesn't like to make irresponsible remarks. Soon, he became close with his classmates.

One day, he looked down at my homework and called my name for the first time. I responded stiffly and then generously handed him the comics he wanted to borrow. , he secretly read it in one class and returned it to me.

He started asking me to borrow comics frequently, and I also wanted to recommend the ones I liked to him.

Every night before going to bed, I would put the books he wanted into my schoolbag in advance.

"Gao Wenbo!"

I suddenly raised my head at the sharp voice, and looked at the math teacher at a loss, and then at him.

"Take out what's under your desk," she ordered.

After hearing this, he stood up without hesitation and calmly placed the second volume of my "Vagabond" with "No Reading for Under Eighteen Years Old" printed on the cover. On the podium, he sat back down silently.

The math teacher picked up the book, flipped through it, and asked, "Is this book yours?"

"Yes." He replied without thinking.

"Come to the office after class." After that, she put down the book and continued to talk about geometry problems.

Afterwards, he came back from the office nonchalantly and said to me with a smile:

"Sorry, the book has been confiscated. I will give you one."

"It doesn't matter, forget it." I said.

"Then why don't I treat you to something to eat after school." He said.

"Oh, okay." I responded casually.

McDonald's was filled with the noise of kindergarten children, and parents stood by the slide talking and laughing.

Gao Wenbo’s schoolbag is placed on the stool opposite. After a while, he came over with a large plate of food and sat down, placing my portion in front of me one by one. He tore open the ketchup, opened the lid of the drink, and stirred the ice cubes inside to make a clattering sound.

"By the way, tell me about the plot behind that book. I haven't finished reading it." He said with great interest.

"Huh?" I was confused for a moment.

""Vagabond"."

"Oh..."

After that, I told the story in a somewhat incoherent way, and he He interrupted me at every turn to ask for details.

After finishing a burger, he wiped his hands, took out the PSP from his bag and played with it for a few minutes, then raised his head and asked:

"Do you have it?"

"I... am not very good at playing games."

"It's super easy," he said, handing me the PSP, "I'll teach you."

He left He leaned down next to me and patiently explained how to play the game. I clumsily pressed the button with two thumbs, and before long the words "GAME OVER" appeared on the screen. Frustrated, I handed the PSP back to him. He didn't know whether it was encouragement or comfort and said: "You are very good at playing. The more you practice, the more you will get better."

Maybe the same is true for the feelings between people. As long as you practice more, you will get better. The damage will be less and less, and the remaining health points will be enough to persist until the perfect ending.

The only progress in our relationship that day was the exchange of mobile phone numbers.

I have forgotten when the background light of my phone suddenly lights up, with the words "Gao Wenbo" displayed on it.

When will his colorful avatar start to appear on QQ?

Since when, we have become friends.

Open your eyes.

Not a dream, but a living reality.

In the physical education class, Gao Wenbo handed me a hand. I grabbed it and got up from the ground, dusting off my clothes. dust.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"It's okay" I answered.

After saying that, I limped and watched him run along the track and across most of the playground.

I am much shorter than him, and I am not as good at basketball as he is.

Once in the supermarket near school, he happened to see me reaching for a box of American Cheerios on the top shelf on tiptoes, so he effortlessly took it off and stuffed it into my hand.

He didn't see it. After he left, I put the Cheerios back.

During the winter vacation, he and three boys he had a good relationship with would occasionally come to my house to play. Since there was no game console, a few people gathered in the living room to watch DVDs. Gao Wenbo brought his own game CD. They crowded into my bedroom and took turns cutting CS on the computer. Deafening gunshots kept coming from the room. I sat on the bed and studied Gao Wenbo's PSP with a frown. He was wearing a pilled gray sweater and a pair of jeans, holding a paper cup filled with warm water in his hand. He would occasionally come to my side to point out how to pass the level, and as he was talking, he would go directly over to demonstrate in person.

After getting tired of playing games, everyone started chatting about everything, from "Naruto" to Tang Wei, from Tang Wei to the NBA, and from the NBA to Jay Chou...

In the end, the topic of the opposite sex inevitably came up, and I don’t know who came up with the idea to have everyone confess who they liked in school.

One said that he had no goals for the time being, while the other two confessed honestly but found that they liked the same person.

When it was Gao Wenbo's turn, he happily said the person's name. She was the physics class representative in the class, a very cute girl.

Then all eyes turned to my face, and I was speechless for a long time.

Gao Wenbo put an arm around my shoulders and threatened: "If you don't tell me, you will be dead."

I was silent for a moment and said bravely. : "Liu Xue."

"Who? What class are you in?" Boy A asked.

“I’ve never seen it before.” Boy B said to himself.

"High school." I said.

As soon as I finished speaking, they provoked ridicule from them, such as "heavy taste", "sister-obsession", "child bride"...

And I thought I could make it up Come up with a better name.

I remember when I was a child, my father often told me to be an upright person.

I had just turned fourteen when my father passed away, and the city was full of yellow jasmine flowers.

I took a week's sick leave, and whether I was awake or asleep, what always came to my mind was my father's voice and smile.

No matter how many times I take a shower, I still smell like a crematorium.

Many classmates sent messages of greetings, including Gao Wenbo.

One evening when the sun was setting in the west, I was sitting on the swivel chair in front of my desk, staring at the frozen scenery outside the window, when the phone suddenly roared like an awakened beast.

"Hello, it's me, Gao Wenbo." A familiar voice came from the receiver.

That is, there is only one thing I silently beg for, that is, beg him not to comfort me.

However, contrary to expectations, he still said those three words as a normal person:

"Is it okay."

The tears stopped before the words fell. It kept rolling out and silently hit the glass of the desk.

Because I was afraid of being heard by him, I tried my best not to make any sound and didn't speak for a long time.

After a while, he cleared his throat and said to me:

"Don't cry."

The calendar turned to early June, and the water jet The girls were spinning endlessly, dodging splashing water droplets and running across the school's flower bed. The weather is getting hotter, and everyone in class seems a little listless.

Unknowingly, I was sandwiched between Gao Wenbo and the physics department representative, acting as a transfer station for them to pass notes.

I don’t understand why they don’t send text messages instead of using this ancient method of contact, and I don’t understand why there are so many things that can’t be said after class instead of talking on the blackboard while the teacher’s back is turned. While writing on the Internet, he secretly engaged in underground activities.

Maybe they think this is a kind of romance.

At first, I thought that over time I would get used to it, become numb, and compromise.

After all, as a friend or classmate, it is understandable to help pass things over.

However, a certain emotion is accumulating in my heart little by little, trying to push me to the edge of collapse.

I no longer helped them, but pretended to listen to the teacher attentively without seeing anything.

Finally one day, Gao Wenbo stopped me in the corridor.

"Are you okay?" He said the same words, but this time he used a rude tone.

I leaned against the wall and stared at a stain on the white wall.

"I know what you mean even if you don't tell me. You and her are not the same thing."

After saying that, he bumped my shoulder deliberately and went back to the classroom. .

At this moment, I can’t even say the words to ask for his forgiveness.

By the time I sent the words "I'm sorry" via text message, he had stopped saying a word to me.

The last thing he said to me was "no chance".

I have forgotten when his QQ avatar was always black and white and offline, and there was no response after I sent messages.

Forget it, they were not such good friends that they were inseparable.

I just don’t know why.

Even though he knew clearly that he had been deleted, he still stupidly kept his name and the few chat records.

The final exam is over, and everyone is relieved and ready to enjoy the long summer vacation.

The situation on the day Gao Wenbo transferred away was exactly the same as the day he transferred here.

He stood in front of the podium with a face of reluctance, and told us the reasons for transferring to another school in a concise and concise manner. Then he turned to look at the class teacher as if grasping for a life-saving straw, and then walked back to his seat.

After class, some classmates gathered around his desk and asked questions, as if this was their way of saying goodbye to him.

As for me, I was like a transparent creature that did not exist in that room, trying my best to pretend that I was not in pain or itchy.

In the evening, the chirping of cicadas could be heard among the green leaves outside the window.

It was that kind of season, and he and I said goodbye without any pain.

I don’t want to complain at the top of my lungs about "Ah - youth -" or something like that.

But when I look back countless times, I always hope to return to the classroom with him.

The frame-skipping pictures continue to move further and further along the river of time.

Countless times I walked into that classroom and saw the strong wind blowing the curtains violently.

Is the figure that flickers in and out behind him his back?

Is that you, the young man who is leaning on the window sill and looking at the stadium, with a trace of unknown sentimentality in his eyes?

Left.

He and I can never be together.

This life of regret and life of loneliness is just because we are all standing on the left side of the class line.