night fire

Chapter 21 Sweet Corn

21

Zhao Qiyan bought some sweet corn downstairs in his house, and the yellow corn cobs emitted heat unscrupulously in the evening air.

He hooked the corn sack to the trunk handle and dragged the suitcase upstairs.

The corridor was still dim, with dirty graffiti on the walls and his childhood handwriting, but the voice-activated lights were much more sensitive than before, and they lit up one by one as he walked forward.

When he got to his door, he realized that he was a little embarrassed—he didn't bring the key.

He took out his mobile phone and wanted to call his mother. The moment he dialed the number, the door of the house opened.

"Why don't you know how to knock on the door?" The voice on the phone overlapped with the voice in front of him, Zhao Qiyan raised the boiled corn in his hand, twitched the corner of his mouth, and shouted: "Mom."

The family hasn't changed much - but it's not exactly the same either.

For example, the TV house has become bigger, the table in the living room has changed from a round table of mahogany to a square table of yellow wood, there are several pots of dripping Guanyin on the balcony that I have never seen before, and the family portrait on the wall is covered by a square cloth with tassels. Woke up.

Wasn't it still like this when he left—when he left home three years ago?he asked himself.

But there is no answer.

Because at that time, he was so cowardly that he didn't dare to look at the house again. He fled the house and the city as if fleeing a refugee.

Then never came back, until today.

Zhao Qiyan sat on the left side of the sofa, unconsciously touching a small dent on the solid wood armrest of the sofa—it was made when he was sharpening pencils while watching TV on the sofa in junior high school.

He was slapped by Comrade Zhang Fugang—that is, his father.I only played once, because the others were replaced by others.

He looked up at his mother——Zhao Yan had a pair of slanted eyes, and when she was young, she looked extremely charming and lost her beauty, but she had a deep outline and rigid facial features, and she was very resistant to aging, even at this age. Much more beautiful than most people of the same age, his father once said with a smile that other people's mothers were beautiful when they were young, but Zhao Qiyan's mother was a little more gaudy when she was young, but when she got older, her facial features were neutralized by the years Intense, resulting in a more touching beauty.

He still didn't understand it at the time, but now he believes that Zhao Yan is indeed more beautiful than any woman he has ever seen.

Of course, he didn't believe all of Zhao's father's words.Since he was a child, he always felt that his mother was the most beautiful in the world, but she had different looks at different times.

It looks beautiful now, he thought, raising his head to look at Zhao Yan.

Zhao Yan leaned on the single sofa and ate the corn that Zhao Qiyan brought back, and didn't look at him very much, her attention seemed to be only focused on the drama characters in Tsing Yi and long gowns on TV.

But Zhao Qiyan felt at ease, as if he was back in his childhood, he deliberately saved a few yuan for snacks at school, and bought a piece of boiled corn downstairs for Zhao Yan who came back from get off work.

Zhao Yan never asked him where he got the money from, and she never even said thank her son. She has always been spoiled, spoiled by her family at home, favored by outsiders outside, and spoiled by Fu Zhang after marrying her. The son is very sensible, and the younger son is well-behaved by the older son, so that she is not used to coaxing others.

But the little Zhao Qiyan can always find a few extra pocket money in the small interlayer of the schoolbag, find some expensive snacks in the refrigerator for the family, and also see that the light in the living room is still on at night, see Under the dim light, Zhao Yan waved the needle and thread unskillfully——Zhao Yan was born to be loved, but she has always loved others in her own way.

Zhao Qiyan knew that Zhao Yan was not very good at saying touching words, and was not good at hugging and kissing, but from the beginning of his birth, he clumsily and spared no effort to give all the love he could give.

He knows.

Because Zhang Zhiyan has been telling him that since he was a child.

Tell him over and over again.

Zhang Zhiyan is his brother, the brother who is five years older than him, the brother who looks similar to him, the brother who has always been regarded as a role model by him, the brother who will distribute leaflets on the street for several days in dog days in order to buy him a set of colored pencils .

The older brother who is smiling brightly in the covered family photo, the older brother who has been sleeping all the time because of his fault.

Which is his only brother.

Zhao Yan didn't look at him, but just looked at the TV and asked, "How long will you be back this time?"

Zhao Qiyan lowered his head, rubbed his palms together and said, "Anything is fine."

"Anything is fine?" Zhao Yan stood up, threw the gnawed corn cobs into the trash can, frowned and said to her youngest son, "You child, can't you stay at home for a day?" "I'm staying Not going down?" Zhao Qiyan laughed shortly, "Do you think so?"

Zhao Yan didn't say anything else, just sighed, and she didn't know what she was sighing. She carried Zhao Qiyan to the refrigerator to find something to eat, and asked him what he wanted to eat tonight.

She didn't care if she didn't get a response, and said this on her own, saying something about the delicious celery in this season, and something about the pity that the beans were a little wilted after being kept in the refrigerator for a long time.

She babbled and indifferently, like any busy housewife in a tube house in this small city.

Maybe time changed her.

Or the accident that happened to Zhang Zhiyan changed her.

Zhao Qiyan couldn't help thinking, what if there was no accident?What would have happened if he hadn't called Zhang Zhiyan that day?

Wouldn't there be so many people living in guilt and self-blame?

"Brother, tell me." He murmured, but no one answered.

The author has something to say:

Brother is a good brother, words are good words