XNUM X night

It turns out that every flower blooms will be hidden in the dark thorn bushes.

"Why don't you talk?" When Sang Yintian said this, he was surprised.He never talked about this kind of topic that requires communication between the two sides to proceed.No matter what time and place, Sang Yintian is only suitable to be a qualified listener, or a passerby who never looks back.

In order to see what the boy on the rock looks like, Sang Yintian deliberately turned his head to let the light of the street lamp shine on him.The boy looked about eighteen or nineteen years old, with three-dimensional facial features and sharp eyebrows, not as gentle as him.

"No..." The boy elongated his voice and moved his arms.Probably pulled the wound on his wrist, he gasped. "hiss--"

"Don't move around." Sang Yintian turned the boy's wrist over, took out the phone from his pocket, and turned on the flashlight that came with him.The surrounding environment was very dark, and the light became more abrupt, constantly dazzled their eyes.

The boy couldn't help squinting his eyes, trying to withdraw his hand.I don't know if it was because Sang Yintian didn't let go, or because the wound was so severe that he pulled it a few times and refused to move.

"I... I said everything, it's fine."

This is the longest sentence the boy said, but he still lowered his head, not daring to look at Sang Yintian's face.

The gauze on the left wrist had long been completely soaked in blood, sticky blood clots squeezed out from the corner of the gauze, exuding a more intense bloody smell.

Sang Yintian let go of his hand decisively.

"You are injured too badly. You can't stop the bleeding just by wrapping gauze a few times casually." Sang Yintian's voice was very soft. In order to avoid embarrassment, he picked up the album on the floor again. .

His little finger was accidentally stained with the boy's blood, and finally inadvertently left a dazzling red on the page of the sketchbook.

This kind of red is different from ordinary oil paints, and it makes people sick just looking at it.

Sang Yintian knew that his painting was still invalid.He tore off the first page of the book and threw it into his pocket in a ball.

"Your drawing...is beautiful, why...don't continue to draw..." The boy probably didn't notice the blood stains on the notebook, he was expressionless, and wrapped Sang Yintian with his peripheral vision.Under the shadows, he just took a look at Sang Yintian and felt that this man should be very beautiful.

And unlike the bloody smell on his body, Sang Yintian had a light cedar smell on his body.

"Ah." Sang Yintian didn't seem to expect that the boy would ask back, he held the notebook in one hand, and gestured forward with the other to the perfect proportion of the sea surface and the beach, "It's nothing, as a painter, what I pursue is the ultimate perfection. The last painting is at best a defective product. Continuing to paint is a disrespect for art."

"Oh……"

Sang Yintian stopped writing suddenly, turned his head and looked at the boy again. "Do you understand what I just said?"

The boy shook his head, and subconsciously hid his arms behind his back.

"Is that pretending to understand?"

"Uh..." The boy didn't speak anymore.

The bright galaxy completely tore apart this lonely night, Sang Yintian raised his head and saw more and brighter stars.He took out his phone to check the time, and it was getting closer to sunrise.

"What's your name?" Sang Yintian asked.

"leaf……"

"Ye?" Sang Yintian squinted his eyes halfway. Could it be that this kid was not only seriously injured, but also a stutterer?

"Ye, Ye Siran." The boy finally said his name.

Sang Yintian didn't bother to ask what are the words of Ye Siran's name. He knew that when the sun jumped out from the sea level and he finished the painting, he would never see Ye Siran again.

Of course, to Ye Siran, Sang Yintian is just a stranger.

"The wound on your wrist looks like it was strangled by something?"

"Uh..." Ye Siran bit her lip and said nothing, but her expression couldn't deceive anyone.He is in pain now, suffering from inexplicable suffering.

"You didn't feel any pain after bleeding so much?" Sang Yintian's brush rubbed against the slightly rough paper, and soon, the prototype of this beach reappeared in the sketchbook, but the color was still only black and white point.

Sang Yintian frowned and put down his pen.Obviously this beach is so beautiful, but in his hands, it turned into a dead thing.Ye Siran didn't answer, he was very quiet.But the quieter he became, the more disturbed Sang Yintian became.

"It seems that this painting "Sunrise in Midwinter" is destined to be unfinished." Sang Yintian couldn't help sighing, and closed the sketchbook.

If there is a chance in the future, he will move all the painting tools that have not been used for a long time in the studio at home to the seaside. He can call out all the colors in the world on the palette, and fill all the colorful life into his paintings. inside.

At least, it is more vivid than the black and white in the sketchbook.

"Forget it, I won't draw anymore." Sang Yintian was a little annoyed, and said something softly, but he didn't know who he was speaking to.

As time passed by, Sang Yintian began to wonder why the boy next to him could be so calm after seeing his face.

Sitting next to him is Sang Yintian, a well-known painter on Weibo.

"Hey, boy, do you know me?" Sang Yintian asked again.

Ye Siran finally turned his head, his eyes were foggy, and the wound on the corner of his right eye was still oozing blood. "do not know."

This answer was also expected by Sang Yintian.

"Then... why don't we get to know each other now?" Sang Yintian suddenly stretched out his hand, "My name is Sang Yintian, a bad painter."

The hand in front of her had slender fingers and fair skin. Even the nails had been trimmed round and smooth, and there were shallow lines on the tiger's mouth.The knuckles were a little red, and Ye Siran guessed that they were probably frozen red by the winter night.He raised his arm, and moved his left hand behind his back. After hesitating for a long time, Ye Siran put down his hand again.

Sang Yintian is really too clean.

So clean that Ye Sizan didn't want her own blood to get on his hands.

"Hello..." Ye Siran licked his lower lip. "My name is... Ye Siran."

Sang Yintian was a little surprised. Since his "Flaming Rose" became popular all over the Internet, he has been invited to many art dinners.There, he met more people in this circle, and saw all kinds of darkness behind the brilliance with his own eyes.Some capitalists even wanted to buy out all his paintings at a higher price.

They said: "I will give you money, a lot of money, as long as your paintings belong to me."

Ke Sang Yintian was born yearning for freedom, he is like an unruly bird, he wants to stay in the sky with flocks of white doves.

He didn't want to have any interaction with these people, because of too many perfunctory and rejections, Sang Yintian gradually became the one who talked the least in this circle.Therefore, many people joked behind his back that he was a "cold rose" who dared to dedicate himself to art.

A rose that has imprisoned itself in a picture frame all year round.

But now Leng Meigui met a person who was colder than him. That person didn't know what "Flaming Rose" was, hadn't seen any of his paintings, and didn't even know the existence of Sang Yintian.His body was stained with rancid blood, but it was like a piece of transparent white paper without any blemishes.

It was the first time for Sang Yintian to meet such a person, he was very curious, he felt that the boy in front of him could bring him artistic inspiration.

Sang Yintian stood up suddenly, and patted Ye Siran's shoulder lightly with his hand. "Your wound needs to be bandaged. If you drag it on, it will definitely get infected. My house is not too far from here. If you don't mind, come with me." Sang Yintian even thought about his lines after being rejected, and he repainted the brush Stuck it in his pocket, "Of course...you have the right to refuse—"

Another cold rose blinked lightly, patted her trouser legs and stood up straight away.

He didn't speak, but he didn't refuse, the answer was obvious.

At first, he thought it was a child who had been wronged and came to the beach to vent his emotions, but when he stood up, Sang Yintian wanted to take back his guess a few minutes ago.

Ye Sizan was taller than him, blocking all the light sources.

"I thought it was some rebellious boy who ran away from home, but looking at it this way, it looks a bit like a wounded stray dog." Sang Yintian couldn't help laughing.

This was the first time in half a month that he laughed from the bottom of his heart.Even he himself was a little surprised.

"Thank you." Ye Siran was not angry at all, he lowered his head, pressing the wound on his left hand with his right hand. "I... Although I don't know who you are, I think you must be a good person."

"Really?" Sang Yintian laughed again. Compared with "good guy" and "cold rose", there is a world of difference.

Sang Yintian finally took Ye Siran home and told him to sit on the sofa in his living room and not move around.Taking the medicine box out of the bedroom, Sang Yintian knelt gently on the carpet in the living room, propped his elbows on the glass coffee table, tilted his head and dipped the cotton swab into the iodine.

"Hand out."

Sang Yintian looked at the gauze on Ye Sizan's wrist and couldn't help frowning.To him, Ye Siran was like a perfect work of art, only the wound on his wrist affected his supposed value and beauty.

As for himself, the most unacceptable thing is such a defective product.

The light in the living room was very bright, and Ye Siran finally saw his wrist clearly, as well as the gauze wrapped several times and the sticky blood clot on the outermost layer. Under the white light and shadow, he really felt a little nauseous.

Even Ye Siran couldn't stand it, let alone Sang Yintian.

"Either...or it's me, I'll do it myself." After Ye Siran finished speaking, she wanted to reach out and grab the knot of the gauze.

"do not move."

"Uh……"

"I'll do it." Sang Yintian attributed Ye Siran's hesitation to his fear of pain.He took out the tweezers from the medicine box, and gently untied the knot at the end of the gauze, for fear of hurting Ye Siran.

"I like to paint, but the way I paint is different from others. I like to use roses."

In order to divert Ye Siran's attention, Sang Yintian started talking to him.Unexpectedly, with a single mouthful, he mentioned his previous creative inspiration.

"Using roses...as paintbrushes?"

"Yes. At that time, Xiaohan... oh, she was my studio assistant. At that time, she hadn't come to work in the studio. I was often pricked by the thorns on the rose stem." Sang Yintian threw the bloody gauze I went into the trash can, and finally took out the cotton swabs I had prepared. "During that time, I was just like you. I had injuries all over my hands and arms. Some of the thorns were too deep, so I had to use tweezers to pull them out..."

It hurts.Ye Siran subconsciously frowned.

"You feel a little pain too? Don't you?"

"Um……"

"Since you are so afraid of pain, why do you want to hurt yourself?" Sang Yintian's hand paused.

The glass window in the living room was opened after Sang Yintian came home, and the transparent tulle curtains were shaken by the wind.The stars in the Milky Way scrambled to squeeze into Ye Siran's eyes.

Deep in his heart, it seemed that something had easily broken through the soil, and something unknown would grow in the coming year.

"You..." Ye Siran wanted to withdraw her hand.

"You want to ask me how I know?" Sang Yintian carefully handled the wound on Ye Siran's wrist, fearing that it would hurt him, so he would blow a few breaths of air-conditioning occasionally.

He suddenly smiled, "I'll tell you later."

If they have future words.

After the wound was bandaged, Sang Yintian let out a long sigh of relief and collapsed on the white sofa.Ye Siran didn't sit or stand, she froze on the spot and didn't dare to move.This scene really looked like a bewildered child.

"You were not allowed to move just now because your wound was bleeding. Now that the wound has been treated, you can move." Sang Yintian said with eyes closed.

"Oh..." Ye Siran cleared his throat and sat up a little bit.

In the corner of the living room stands a clean easel with an oval drawing board.Ye Siran took a few more glances, and then looked around. "Your house...is really clean. It's white everywhere."

The white sofa, the light gray easel, the glass coffee table and the carpet are all grayish white.

"Yeah." Sang Yintian didn't know what he was thinking, staring out the window for a long time, and when Ye Siran lowered his head in embarrassment, he slowly turned his head. "Actually, I didn't live here before. I just bought it because I had no choice. But..."

The selection of furniture, the height of the paintings on the walls, and even the placement of potted plants are all exactly the same as before.Here, Sang Yintian perfectly replicated it as his real home.

"But, what..." Ye Siran blinked lightly.

"Forget it, you won't understand if I tell you." Sang Yintian got up suddenly and walked to the easel in the corner. He looked down for the painting knife that had fallen on the ground, and looked back at Ye Siran.

"Roses, blood...and countless wounds..."

"Uh..." Ye Siran didn't understand.

"I don't want to draw that "Sunrise in Midwinter" now, I want to draw a picture for you." Sang Yintian's eyes lit up. "May I?"

Brighter than the stars hanging in the night sky.

"Give it to me?" Ye Siran's eyes widened.Some people saw him and wanted to walk close to the corner, while the person in front of him held a rose and said that he wanted to draw a picture of him. "..."

"Well, here it is."

In Sang Yintian's studio and home, the most indispensable thing is roses.Although the gauze on Ye Siran's wrist was replaced with a new one, the blood that oozes still stained the original white color.

Sang Yintian wanted to stick the petals of red roses on his wrist and the wound at the corner of his eye.

He thought so, and he did so.Sang Yintian asked Ye Sizan to change into the white shirt that he didn't often wear, and rolled up his sleeves for him, revealing his fair skin and the rose petals attached to the wound.

For some reason, when Sang Yintian looked at Ye Siran's somewhat dull eyes, such a picture would flash in his mind.It was an uninhabited wasteland, and the clouds in the sky were burned and dyed a dark red.A boy passing by with a kerosene lamp was barefoot, looking for his god, the light flickered, but the boy was unwilling to stay in this wasteland.

He will go beyond here until he steps into a dark thornbush, finds a rose, and then goes further afield with it.

Sang Yintian suddenly fell silent.It turns out that every bloom will be hidden in the dark thorn bushes.

"The bush of thorns..." Sang Yintian muttered to himself, and moved the paint bucket from the empty space next to it.He squatted down, working on the palette.He didn't care about changing clothes, the white and pink dyes mixed together, and finally stuck to the light-colored overalls on his body, and a beautiful flower bloomed.

"This painting is called Thorns."

The author says:

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