Overwinter

The weather has gotten a lot warmer in the past two days. Wen Yan took off a thick sweater, and his body became much lighter. He put on his scarf and was about to go out to the supermarket to make up for everything that was missing at home recently.The house that Wen Yan rented used to have a big shopping mall downstairs, but because of too little traffic, it had to close down, and the residents in this area had to take the bus to go to the shopping mall a few kilometers away to visit the supermarket.

Wen Yan is not troublesome, he has been here for two or three years, on the contrary, he also likes to take the bus, the bus drivers in small towns usually drive very slowly, there are more old people than young people living here, and the wheels are like days The rolling is getting slower and slower, the road is widened, and the wide view by the window makes the chest spacious and bright.

When he arrived at the supermarket, Wen Yan walked around for more than half an hour. Now he is cooking at home by himself, bought a lot of ingredients and seasonings, and brought two bags, big and small.His palms were whitened by the plastic belt, and he walked to the bus stop in three steps and two stops.Standing in the wind for a while, Wen Yan's sweat from just lifting the things was completely cool, and a cold feeling climbed up his back, Wen Yan put on the scarf slowly, and buried half of his face in the soft fabric.

Song Zhuangtong went out today to buy egg yolk cakes for Song Jing from this big shopping mall in the north of the city. When the car passed a traffic light, it slowed down. Song Zhuangtong opened the window to smoke a cigarette. From a distance, he saw a familiar figure sitting on the opposite bus stop, looking Look at the number plate of the bus with your head.

Song Zhuangtong stepped on the accelerator and quickly slid in front of Wen Yan. He lowered the window and called, "Teacher Wen."

Wen Yan was stunned for a moment, adjusted his glasses, recognized the man in the driver's seat with a cigarette dangling from his mouth, and then smiled softly: "Hello, Mr. Song."

"I'll see you off." Song Zhuangtong's tone didn't sound like there was any room for negotiation. He shook the cigarette in his hand, and white mist filled his lips and teeth, and was blown out of the window by the wind.Across the passenger seat, Wen Yan couldn't see Song Zhuangtong's expression clearly, nor could he guess based on his tone.

"Don't bother you, the bus will be here soon."

Song Zhuangtong looked up at the slender Wen Yan who was shrunk in the cold wind, and said, "Parking is not allowed here, hurry up, Teacher Wen."

This parent is so domineering, Wen Yan had no choice but to say thank you in a low voice, and then opened the door of the passenger seat, only to be troubled by the two large bags of things at his feet, he hissed embarrassingly, and said :"or……"

Song Zhuangtong had already got out of the car and came over. He was wearing a long black windbreaker today, his black hair was raised up, revealing his broad forehead and narrow eyes. When he looked at Wen Yan, he was inexplicably oppressive. , Wen Yan was so frightened that the second half of the sentence was swallowed directly into his throat.

Song Zhuangtong directly picked up the two bags and put them on the back seat.

"Get in the car." He went to the trash can and extinguished the cigarette in his hand, and got in the car.

Wen Yan was a little embarrassed: "I'm sorry to trouble you."

Song Zhuangtong turned the key and said softly, "No trouble."

He glanced at Wen Yan before stepping on the gas pedal: "Mr. Wen."

Wen Yan didn't understand, so: "Huh?"

Song Zhuangtong came up suddenly, and Wen Yan was so frightened that his eyes were like those of a startled deer, looking at the man in front of him in horror.

There was a faint smell of cologne and nicotine on his body. The man passed Wen Yan's body with his hands, grabbed the seat belt, and lowered his head to buckle it up carefully.

Wen Yan clenched his fists and said awkwardly, "Thank you."

Song Zhuangtong hummed softly and asked, "Where do you live?"

"Nanhu District..."

The atmosphere in the car was a bit awkward, but fortunately, the temperature was comfortable, Wen Yan's body relaxed a lot, his hands that had been frozen just now gradually warmed up, and the car rang a soft YesterdayOnceMore just in time for a light snowfall at night, rustling on the windows .

"Teacher Wen teaches Chinese?" Song Zhuangtong asked.

Wen Yan nodded: "Well, yes."

"Song Jing's Chinese grades are very poor." Song Zhuangtong said, he paused, and added, "Although his other grades are also quite poor."

Wen Yan hesitated for a moment, and said, "...Actually, I've wanted to ask for a long time, I don't know if it would be too presumptuous, Song Jing——"

Song Zhuangtong: "Yes."

Wen Yan: "...I haven't asked yet."

Song Zhuangtong chuckled softly, feeling stuffy in his chest.This was the first time Wen Yan heard Song Zhuangtong laugh, and he was so pleasantly surprised that he forgot that this was the second time they met.

"Every teacher in Song Jing will ask me. You guessed it right, he has some psychological problems."

Wen Yan choked.This parental heart is quite big, and I feel that there is no frustration or sadness in his tone.

"I was diagnosed with autism when I was a child. After several years of treatment abroad, the situation has improved a lot."

Sure enough, Song Zhuangtong saw the expression of shock and regret on Wen Yan's face. He didn't hide his thoughts at all, he almost wrote the word distressed on his face.

"He didn't talk very much at school. I thought it was just because of his dull personality. I thought that he might get better with his classmates after a long time..." Wen Yan sighed.

"Who would want to play with a kid like him now who doesn't talk and has a big temper. I don't know how many times I have been caught by the head teacher to solve the fights about Song Jing."

While he was speaking, Wen Yan, the homeroom teacher who visited the most recently, scratched his face in embarrassment.

"Is he born with autism? Or is it because of acquired factors?" Southerners like to bite an upturned end of speech, just like scratching an itch in the heart.Song Zhuangtong glanced at Wen Yan, and after meeting the enthusiastic Teacher Wen in the air, Song Zhuangtong looked away silently.Wen Yan coughed lightly, and added, "I've never had contact with this kind of students before, and I want to know more about it..."

Song Zhuangtong's voice was always calm: "It's congenital, but no one paid attention to it at the beginning, and only started treatment when the situation was serious."

Along the way, Song Zhuangtong didn't have any reservations, and Wen Yan answered whatever he asked, chatting and chatting today, but the journey home seemed extremely short.The car stopped steadily downstairs in the community, Wen Yan unfastened his seat belt, and thanked him again: "Mr. Song, it's really troublesome for you, and you took a detour to see me off, thank you."

Song Zhuangtong was about to open his seat belt to help him carry his things, Wen Yan quickly got out of the car, opened the rear door, and dragged down the two big bags with difficulty.He nodded to Song Zhuangtong and said with a smile: "Then I'll go up first, goodbye."

Even after chatting all the way, Teacher Wen is still very defensive.

Song Zhuangtong lit another cigarette, leaned against the window, and stared at Wen Yan's leaving back.

He was wearing a knee-length black cotton jacket, a white scarf around his neck, and a bag in each hand, which seemed extremely heavy, making his steps slow.The snow didn't seem to stop, but it fell more and more heavily, and it fell on Wen Yan's shoulders one after another. Song Zhuangtong breathed out the smoke, and the emotion in his eyes was heavier than the night.

Wen Yan went downstairs to the unit, put down his things, turned his head to take a look, and found that Song Zhuangtong hadn't left yet, he was surprised, and waved his right hand to signal goodbye to him.Across the snow and the distance, Song Zhuangtong couldn't see Wen Yan's expression clearly, but he could feel a little bit of joy from Wen Yan's tiptoe, and Song Zhuangtong also waved his hand at him.

Childish as hell.

Song Zhuangtong was thinking while taking the last puff of cigarette.