XNUM X night

God waits to win back his own flower as a gift from the hand of man.

In the next two months, Ye Siran's life was quite satisfactory, always two points and one line.In addition to learning piano with professional teachers at school during the day, the rest of the time is spent writing music and accompanying Sang Yintian.The temperature is slowly warming up, and the glass windows at home are not closed again. When the wind blows in, Sang Yintian will raise his left hand and let them wrap around his fingertips.

At night, Ye Siran would wrap Sang Yintian in a blanket and hug her, and then nestle on the sofa together, looking for an old movie to watch.Sometimes Sang Yintian would slowly exercise the flexibility of his right hand with Ye Siran's help.

It's strange to say that ever since Ye Siran drew this unseen line draft with his right hand in the park last time, Sang Yintian would always push open the wooden door of the studio while Ye Siran was not at home, forcing Try to pick up the paintbrush on the table by yourself, if it doesn't work once, then do it again.

He believes that once in a while, he can pick up his pen again.

"click" -

The door of the studio was pushed open from the outside, and the paintbrush that Sang Yintian had finally caught between his fingers fell down, and finally rolled to Ye Siran's feet.

"Uh..." The two looked at each other, and Ye Siran couldn't help laughing twice.

Sang Yintian gritted his teeth, turned his head and glanced at Ye Siran who was standing at the door with resentment, "Hey, why don't you knock on the door, I can finally pick up the pen with my right hand."

Ye Sizan had a helpless expression on his face, with a half-smile, he took two steps forward and opened the half-open window wider. "There is a special event in the school this afternoon. Everyone went to the auditorium to participate in the... what kind of carnival. I am not interested in foreign cultures, and I don't know much about them, so I want to come back to accompany you." After finishing speaking, Ye Siran He took out two invitation letters for the art exhibition from his pocket and handed them to Sang Yintian. "I have a gift for you, I know you will like it."

"What?" Sang Yintian squinted his eyes and lowered his head. When he saw the name on the invitation letter, his eyes widened instantly. "Teacher's art exhibition?"

On the inside page of the black and gold invitation letter, there are several lines of neat bold characters printed.

【Cheng Yan Solo Exhibition】.

But it shouldn't be, logically speaking, Cheng Yan should still be in Italy now, how could he suddenly come to the United States to hold an art exhibition?No matter how I think about it, I feel strange.

Sang Yintian was dubious, thinking that Ye Siran made a big joke on purpose to make him happy.Thinking of this, the flame that had just ignited in his heart was suddenly completely covered by a handful of loess, not even a single spark was left behind.Sang Yintian looked regretful, looked down at the letter in his hand, and raised his left hand slightly.

But these two invitation letters... don't look fake at all, Cheng Yan's name is printed on the exquisite wax paint, and there is his handwritten English name in the lower right corner.It is impossible for Sang Yintian to mistake Cheng Yan's autograph in his life.

Two seconds later, Sang Yintian took a deep breath, ignoring the paintbrush that had just dropped by his feet, blinked and pressed his left hand on Ye Siran's arm, "So... is this true?"

"The invitation letter is in your hands. Could it be that, do you think I'm lying to you?"

"That's true, you don't have the guts." Sang Yintian twitched the corners of his mouth proudly, with a joyful expression on his face. "The teacher has always wanted to open his own personal art exhibition in China a few years ago, but because he is too busy with work, he spends almost all his time and thoughts on his own career. In order to cultivate a batch of An even better painter, he has no time for his own creations at all... But, even if he really decided to hold a solo exhibition now, why didn't he choose it in China? Why should he choose it in Philadelphia... Wait—"

Sang Yintian accidentally caught a glimpse of the smug smile on Ye Siran's face from the corner of his eye, he raised his eyebrows, and gently poked Ye Siran's chest with the tip of his left index finger. "Ye Siran, does the teacher's art exhibition have anything to do with you?"

"Of course not! How could I participate? I'm not familiar with Mr. Cheng." Ye Siran cleared his throat, apparently guilty, and turned his head to avoid looking directly into Sang Yintian's eyes.

"You're calling him Teacher Cheng, and you're still pretending you're not familiar with it?" Sang Yintian made a gesture to hammer Ye Siran's chest, but was stopped by Ye Siran's hand. "Ye Siran, before I lose my temper, tell me the truth. Does the teacher's art exhibition have anything to do with you?"

It seems that I can't hide it.Ye Siran shrugged, the corners of his mouth slightly raised, and gently pulled the person standing in front of him, and Sang Yintian fell on his chest, and he could even hear Ye Siran's slightly anxious heartbeat.

"Okay, okay... let's stop making trouble. I... I know you like Mr. Cheng's paintings very much, and I also know that he has always wanted to hold his own solo exhibition, so I think now is a good opportunity." Ye Siran stared at Sang Yintian's eyes solemnly.

Before Sang Yintian could speak, Ye Siran stretched out his hand and pinched the tip of Sang Yintian's nose, then scratched his nose with his fingers. "Today is Lixia, the reason why I didn't tell you is to give you the first surprise of this summer. Who knew... you are so sensitive, you already guessed it before I even said it." Ye Si Ran sniffed, with an extremely aggrieved expression on his face. "Now the surprise is gone, tsk, it's really boring."

This kid... When did he learn to play hard to get again?

"Uh..." Sang Yintian was dumbfounded for a moment, so he breathed a sigh of relief and pressed his eyebrows.

summer?Yeah, before they knew it, they had been living in Philadelphia for three months.The roses that were previously planted in the yard have also grown green leaves.

Sang Yintian wanted to visit Teacher Cheng Yan's art exhibition when he was in school, but he didn't have that chance until he graduated.But now, these two invitations are like gifts from heaven, stirring his ordinary heart.Sang Yintian couldn't wait to open the envelope, looking for the time and place of the exhibition at a glance. "Starting at 15 o'clock today? Then..."

Sang Yintian glanced at his mobile phone, "Isn't it going to be late..." It takes 25 minutes to drive from the attic to the exhibition hall.

"So..." Ye Siran suddenly entered the bedroom, and within a few seconds, a thin coat was placed on his arm, "My car has already parked in the yard—hey, Sevati, slow down, there is time."

The person in front of him didn't even bother to change his clothes, he jumped down the stairs in two or three steps, Ye Siran followed behind, his whole heart was almost in his throat.He watched Sang Yintian open the co-pilot's door one step ahead of him and sat in, and obediently fastened his seat belt.

Wait... Ye Siran suddenly stopped where she was, and frowned.

If he's not mistaken, Sang Yintian's right hand just now seemed to be raised a little by himself without the help of external force.Even if it was only for a moment, he was easily captured by him.

Ye Siran stood motionless at the door, his eyes were bright, and the mottled light and shadow skipped over the green shade on both sides and spread directly on his body. The right half of his face became whiter and brighter, and his slightly narrowed eyes looked like a clear spring. , is the messenger of spring against the harsh winter.Just standing there quietly is like the creator god in western mythology.

"Siran, why are you standing there in a daze? Come here quickly. It will be too late."

"Ah, here we come." Ye Siran finally came back to his senses, walked down the steps in two or three steps, started the car and turned on the long street next door with the turn signal on.

There were a lot of people who came to visit the art exhibition, and there was some noise outside the exhibition hall, but after entering the door, almost all of them fell silent immediately, as if they were attracted by the oil paintings on the wall.

Sang Yintian looked calm, standing in front of the watercolor painting near the door, couldn't help raising his left hand.

The painting in front of me has its own name - "Blue Xingyue and His Romantic Poet"

This was painted by Cheng Yan a few years ago. Sang Yintian had seen it in Cheng Yan's studio before, but at that time, the painting was only a semi-finished product.Cheng Yan himself valued Sang Yintian's talent. One afternoon, the sun pierced through the clouds, and through the glass window of the studio, the dazzling light and shadow shone on his back.

"This watercolor painting, I want you to name it."

"Me?" Sang Yintian was a little surprised.He understands that as an artist, he will not easily allow others to tarnish his work.But Cheng Yan asked him to name the painting.Sang Yintian stared at the painting for a long time, "Blue Xingyue...and his romantic poet."

"It's a good name." Cheng Yan seemed very satisfied with the name. He nodded with a smile, handed the paintbrush on the table to Sang Yintian, and said to him with a smile, "Then what do you think next? How should I draw it?"

Sang Yintian didn't speak any more, just walked to the drawing board, added a gradient of blue-purple to the semi-finished product, and finally, under Cheng Yan's watchful eye, adjusted another color himself.

Payne Ash.

A composite pigment composed of permanent colors such as blue, red, black and white.

After that, he didn't know what happened to the painting.Maybe Cheng Yan really finished the painting in the end, maybe Cheng Yan was just superficially polite to him at that time.

Also, no artist would like his own work to be stained with colors that others like.

But now, this painting appears here in its entirety, which proves that the long river of time never stops, and tells every visitor that creation is endless, and so is art.

Looking at it, the corners of Sang Yintian's eyes began to turn red, and the painting in front of him gradually blurred, as if covered with a layer of mist.

"Sir, you can visit any piece of work in the exhibition, but you can't touch it with your hands." Seeing that Sang Yintian's fingertips were about to touch the canvas, the staff stretched out their hand, trying to stop Sang Yintian in time. Citing behavior at this moment.Unexpectedly, Ye Siran interrupted him first.

Ye Siran chuckled at the staff around him, then turned to stare at Sang Yintian's side face. "It doesn't matter, he can look at it as he likes. I can buy all the paintings he touched at a high price after the exhibition is over."

"That's it...then, I wish you a happy viewing." The staff member had a surprised expression on his face, so he nodded and left.

"Siran, do you know?" Sang Yintian's fingertips hadn't landed on the canvas after all, he withdrew his hand and turned his head. "The teacher asked me to name this painting."

"Blue Xingyue and the Romantic Poet?" Ye Sizan was stunned for a moment, and finally moved to the right, gently hitting Sang Yintian's shoulder with his arm, "The name is good, and this painting is also very beautiful... ...and this place—" Ye Sizan suddenly pointed to the lower part of the painting, which was a silent gray, for some reason, he always felt that the painting was divided into two parts.

One half is the blue moon and the other half is a lonely poet.Ye Sizan licked his lips, bent over and continued, "The gray here is actually drawn by you. Right?"

"Uh..." The memory seems to be pulled back to the years at the Academy of Fine Arts in Rome. The damage caused by the death of his parents cannot be erased, so at that time, Sang Yintian had only one common color in all his paintings.

That's Penn Ash.

A gray that seems hopeless but prone to resurgence.

"You discovered all of this?" Sang Yintian adjusted his emotions, raised his eyes and smiled, and finally moved to the left in front of the second watercolor painting, subconsciously squinting his eyes. "Siran, come here and look at this painting."

The picture on the wall is of a snake, or rather, a large snake eating its own tail.And it looks like a symbol that has been circulating for a long time.

Ye Siran came over and followed Sang Yintian's gaze. "Is this... Ouroboros?"

"you know?"

"I know, my brother told me some stories about it when I was a child." Ye Sizan sniffed, moved his arms twice, and naturally landed his right hand on Sang Yintian's shoulder, "Want to hear it? I'll tell you."

"Well, think."

"Plato described it as a cosmic primordial being in a state of self-eating, immortal. Rumor has it that it has no eyes, because it doesn't need eyes to see. No ears, because it has nothing around it to hear, of course. , it doesn't have any breath, so it doesn't need to breathe." Ye Siran's voice was very soft, and he grinned at Sang Yintian from time to time, "It is the closest to perfect creature in this world."

"In mathematics, ouroboros means "infinity", but in physics, it will become a "cycle" that has no beginning and no end in the universe.In Western myths, it is like the legendary "Phoenix". "

"It reproduces itself in the process of self-burning. It is not self-destruction, but a new rebirth." Ye Siran's little finger couldn't help hooking Gou Sang Yintian's finger, and narrowed his eyes. "Sevati, the reason why Teacher Cheng put this painting here is to tell you in his own way—"

"You are that phoenix, waiting for your own rebirth." Ye Sizan lowered his head again, resting his forehead against Sang Yintian's ear, "God waits to win back his own flowers as gifts form man's hands."

【God waits to win back his own flower as a gift from the hand of man. 】

"So, I'm waiting for you." Been waiting for you.Ye Siran pursed her lips, suppressing the sobs in her throat.

Sang Yintian still didn't move, just stared at the painting quietly for a long, long time, so long that he forgot the time.Ye Siran didn't want to disturb him either, but just stood aside with a pity expression.

Afterwards, he watched with his own eyes that Sang Yintian's right hand was slowly raised to his chest, his fingertips were trembling, as if he was about to fall down at any moment in the next second.

"Sang..." Ye Siran's eyes widened, staring at Sang Yintian's right hand in disbelief.

Soon, Sang Yintian's right arm hung down feebly, he frowned, and pressed his left hand on his right wrist.

"It's okay, Sang Sang." Ye Siran suddenly hugged Sang Yintian, buried his whole face into his neckline, and smelled the familiar scent of snakeberry perfume, "There will always be a day."

Perhaps the paintings in Cheng Yan's exhibition had a great influence on Sang Yintian.After that, Sang Yintian seemed to have really become the proud self at the beginning. He would joke with Ye Siran, say some ambiguous words to touch his heartstrings, and take the initiative to sit in front of the drawing board after lunch, Take a deep breath and pick up your paintbrush.

As spring and autumn came, Sang Yintian was finally able to slowly lift his right hand, using all his strength on his fingertips. He squeezed the pen holder vigorously, and sketched the prototype of the city in the drawing book.By the time the autumn leaves were scattered all over the ground and even drifted into the studio with the wind, Sang Yintian could already paint some simple flowers and plants on the canvas.

Xiaomi would occasionally come over to eat at home, and would pester Ye Siran to teach him how to play the violin.In short, the appearance of Xiaomi seems to have added some strange but not superfluous colors to their already boring life.Ye Siran and Sang Yintian were not disgusted, and would take him to see the art exhibition together.

Treat him like you treat your own brother.Because of this incident, Ye Sizan slowly began to understand Ye Wanlu, and had a deeper understanding of the affection between brothers.

When the first winter snow falls in Philadelphia, Ye Siran will wear a long black coat, stand in front of the studio window and play a song for Sang Yin, then sit next to him and hold his hand in his hands. Chin, staring at the drawing board in front of him and nodding in satisfaction. "Hmm... not bad, not bad, really pretty."

The next summer.The sky was full of stars, and Xiaomi slumped on the sofa, drowsy.Because it was too hot upstairs, Sang Yintian's easel was moved to the yard by Ye Siran and Xiaomi. Although the strength in his right hand could not allow him to sit for hours like before, he could still draw lines easily .

Just like now, Sang Yintian is holding a palette in his left hand and a brush in his right hand, tremblingly adding color to the canvas.Although the lines are still a bit messy, it is still a big step forward.For Ye Siran, this is enough.

In the autumn of the third year in Philadelphia, it rained, and the ginkgo leaves outside the yard fell to the ground, and the whole alley was dyed a dull yellow.Ye Siran's violin was recognized by the academy, and a solo concert was even held for him alone in the school.

At Ye Siran's concert, Sang Yintian couldn't help but draw a picture again.It's just that he was not satisfied all the time, and finally hid him in the storage room at home.The person in the painting is Ye Siran, completely different from the original "Thorns". The person in this painting is confident and brave.

His eyes are firm, like a knight of light who is not afraid of beasts.

In the early spring of the fourth year, Ye Siran took Sang Yintian to the best hospital in Philadelphia again.The doctor sat on the stool and hesitated for a long time, his eyes were flustered, and he was even a little incredulous.He stood up and grabbed Sang Yintian's right hand, his light gray pupils dilated accordingly.

He said—[God really gave you all the good luck, my dear painter.Keep going, your right hand will really get better. 】

This is the best news Ye Siran has heard in the past four years.So that night, Sang Yintian cried. He lowered his head and buried his whole face in Ye Siran's chest. "puppy? I want to hug you...right now."

Ye Siran was both distressed and happy, stretched out his hand to embrace him, stroked Sang Yintian's butterfly bone with his right hand, and finally bowed his head and kissed him over and over again.