I'm a substitute for my wife's Bai Yueguang...

When the host's speech began to become a little sensational, I knew that the school celebration was coming to an end.

I heard on the radio that the last song and dance was a teacher's show, and to be honest, I was a little curious.

I don't have that deep attachment to this school, it does nothing more than give my parents a little credit when talking about their kids.

Even though I did have an inexplicable excitement and longing for this school at the beginning, which maybe every freshman will have when the school starts, we use the word "alma mater" to express this sense of belonging and emotional sustenance, but when I When teachers have been changed one after another, classes have been divided again and again, and many unfamiliar new classmates have replaced familiar faces, my feelings for this school have long since become alienated and numb. After an illness, the memory of this school became even more blurred.

So when I mention the word "alma mater", this high school will definitely not appear in my mind.

I just occasionally think of my parents cooking for me in the teacher's apartment. They stood busy in the kitchen, and sometimes they could just happen to see me coming back from school far away from the window of the range hood.

I also occasionally think of my Chinese teacher in the first year of high school. At that time, everyone was still writing narrative essays. We had a unique and freehand composition class when it was snowing heavily. We wrote many imaginative poems on the blackboard. Less hilarious doggerel... the process of writing each composition during that time was a real pleasure for me.

Later, it was precisely because she asked us to write compositions with unlimited themes that I had the opportunity to write a prose poem with wisteria flowers as the object of implication. I was fortunate enough to be sent by her to participate in the composition competition in the school.

Later, when I was divided into classes, narrative essays became argumentative essays, and I completely lost interest in writing essays. Sometimes I couldn’t even finish writing essays for quizzes. I had plenty of time, but I couldn’t write them.

"The school celebration seems to be coming to an end, should you go and see?" My wife poked my face and said.

The memory was interrupted, I raised my head, looked into my wife's eyes, and nodded slowly.

My wife smiled, and he took my hand very naturally, and led me to the exit of the garden.

Those high school memory fragments seem to be splicing together little by little.

Under the cover of the teaching building, we poked our heads out to watch the show on the stage.

There are many familiar faces on the stage. Although they have never taught me, they are often seen in the corridors outside the classroom, in the stairwell, and when passing the classroom of the next class. Which teacher is in which class today? Everyone will spread the word of mouth, what interesting things happened to which teacher in class today, and what happened to which parent made a phone call, until the whole grade knows everything.

I saw the current head teacher. His limbs seemed to have been tamed not long ago, and his dancing had a special flavor.

My wife asked me why I was laughing, so I pulled my wife and pointed it out to him. I seem to have a good eye for discovering beauty and the ability to make complaints to the point, which made my wife laugh with me.

Suddenly a familiar figure appeared in my line of sight from the audience. She got up from her seat and walked back and forth in the student team. She had the familiar high ponytail, familiar black square eyes, and familiar plaid shirt. And jeans, this familiar dressing style is exactly the same as I remember.

"Brother! Have you seen that female teacher who dresses in a special style for engineering students?" I shook my wife's arm excitedly and showed him with my fingers.

My wife looked in the direction of my finger, locked on to the target and nodded. He turned his head and looked back at me, "See, is that the one wearing the black-rimmed glasses and passing the plaid shirt?"

"My Chinese teacher in the first year of high school! She is very interesting in class!" I said excitedly, "Don't look at her clothes are quite neutral, and she usually behaves like a man, but she is easy in front of our current Chinese teacher. Shy!"

"Your current Chinese teacher... is it a male teacher or a female teacher?" My wife asked thinking.

"It's a female teacher, she has a very temperament, but I don't like her class very much haha..." I scratched my head, "I think this teacher's class is more interesting, and her blackboard writing is also very good, and the lectures are very organized. "

"In fact, the most important thing is that I wrote a lot of compositions in her composition class that made me feel happy." I looked in the direction of the Chinese teacher, feeling relieved like an old friend reunited.

My wife listened to me quietly, and he looked at me with a smile, "Can I read those compositions next time?"

I opened my eyes slightly, and then grinned. I looked into my wife's eyes and nodded heavily, "Yes! I'll look for it when I go home! I'll show it to you next time we meet!"

My wife and I snuck out of the campus as the principal began his closing address.

Since I was wearing a school uniform and it was not time for get out of class, the security guard stopped me when I got to the door.

Fortunately, I prepared the leave note in advance.I took out the leave note from my pocket, the security guard looked at the date, then confiscated the leave note, indicating that I can leave school.

I took my wife to the snack street next to our school. School is not over yet, the street is still spacious, and there are only a few young people passing by after work in front of the snack stalls, waiting for the freshly baked food.

"Brother, we ate that pancake last week, do you want to eat something else today?" I looked up at my wife and asked.

"Yeah." My wife nodded.

"Brother, let's see what you want to eat?" I took my wife's arm and led him to the snack street.

My wife slowed down as she passed a fried skewer stand, and I stopped too.

I turned my face to look at my wife knowingly, shook his hand, and said, "Try this?"

"Okay." My wife replied with a smile.

"There are baskets here, you can choose what you want to eat." The proprietress enthusiastically pointed out to us.

"Okay, auntie." I agreed, and picked up the plastic basket at hand.I turned my face to look at my wife, and passed the basket in my hand to him, "Brother, put whatever you want in it."

My wife smiled and nodded.

We took lotus root slices, bean curds, bean paste, eggplant, ham sausage, potato chips, fish tofu, cauliflower, lettuce leaves, and the light plastic baskets in our hands gradually became heavier.

I handed the basket to the proprietress.

"Jamo?" The proprietress took the basket and asked.

"Yes! Two cakes!" I answered very simply.

The aunt put the fried skewers out of the frying pan, looked at us and smiled, and asked, "Are both pancakes deep-fried?"

"Brother, do you eat pancakes that have been fried or not?" I looked at my wife.

My wife thought.

The proprietress may have seen that my wife came here for the first time, so she enthusiastically explained: "Most of the students like to eat fried cakes, which are more fragrant and crispy, but some young people don't like too greasy ones, so they eat white cakes. .”

My wife looked at me again, and I hastened to tell him that I have always eaten pancakes.

My wife nodded and smiled at the stall owner's aunt: "Then I want to fry it too."

"Okay, wait a minute." Auntie held the skewer stick with one hand, and took out two white cakes from the box next to her with the other hand to prepare.

After the fried skewers were fished out, Auntie threw two white cakes into the oil pan.

"Do you want chili?" Auntie asked us.

"Yes!" My eyes lit up.

"Auntie, put less." My wife added that he was still thinking about my healthy diet.

"Brother, what's the matter~" I blinked and looked at my wife.

"The doctor said you can't eat spicy food," my wife said.

"But we have already chosen fried skewers, so it doesn't matter if you put more chili~" I said coquettishly, pulling his arm.

My wife smiled at me and chose to ignore it.

"Woohoo." I was aggrieved twice symbolically.

The aunt smiled and took the cake out of the oil pan and put it on the chopping board, cut it open in the middle with a knife, and then took the skewers brushed with dipping sauce off the stick and put them into the shortbread. Why did the pancake with peppers be handed to me, "Young man, take good care of your body, it won't be too late to eat spicy food when you recover."

"Auntie, it's because he loves to worry too much! I'm in good health!" I took the fried string bun with a smile, and chatted with my aunt.

My wife also took his cake, and raised her other hand and gave me a brainstorm. "Thank you, Auntie. Goodbye, Auntie." My wife thanked Auntie and left the booth holding my collar.

"Brother, we have to eat something with soup, right?" I felt indescribably happy being held by my wife by the collar, "It's a bit choking to eat just pancakes."

"Bland." My wife's tone was unquestionable.

"Then let me think about it..." I searched in my mind, and suddenly I had a flash of inspiration, "Yes! Old hen soup!"

My wife lifted me onto the curb, and then let go of my collar, "Yes."

"Okay!" I happily took my wife's arm and led him forward, "Let's go, here, I haven't had a drink for a long time!"

With a smile on her face, my wife let me walk forward with him in my arms.