Red door

I don't know who said it. It's not a famous sentence, but it's quite interesting. The opposite of love is never hate, but forgetting.Perhaps the original sentence was about the love between men and women, but when Luo Ye heard this sentence, there was a ripple in his heart.He used to love writing in an irretrievable way, but once he stopped writing, the desire/desire to write would subside until it became silent, and even he could not think of the pleasure and passion of writing.

The smiling face of the invited aunt was actually just a symbol of a broken illusion.A long time ago, he may have given up the idea of ​​​​giving up writing-his goals are vague, and the beauty is unreal.He really needs a real muse to balance his dreams and reality.He tried to make a few girlfriends, but unfortunately they were all second-rate, the worldly ones were good-looking, the worldly ones knew how to dress up, the ignorant and fearless were very happy, and they didn't have any deep emotions.

On a clear morning, he made an appointment with a well-known psychological counselor. The two chatted in general, without any major points. The good professionalism of this psychological counselor shows that he will not interrupt him at all and can hide himself very well. subjective consciousness.

But in the end, Luo Ye was still very sleepy.

It's not easy to see who you really are, and changing or accepting it is another big issue.

After leaving the counselor's studio, he gave the driver a little tip, and wandered aimlessly along the green belt. There was a smell of moist soil in the air, which should have been rained at night.

Suddenly he heard a cat meowing like a baby crying, and he carefully opened the neat bushes, and saw an orange cat the size of a mouse crying.

There is no female cat around it, and its limbs are slender, but its claws are large, and its fingertips are sunk in the soil.There is no doubt that as long as Luo Ye is determined to turn around and leave, it will grow weaker and weaker until it becomes a small corpse, which will be picked up by sanitation workers or any kind-hearted people and thrown into the trash can.

He decided to save it.

At night, it rained heavily and lightning danced wildly. He fed the kitten with goat milk with a needle that had been pulled out. The veterinarian was not optimistic about this ugly newborn abandoned by his mother. Although he prescribed a series of supplies for cats, such as cat litter for cats in the future , kitten food, and the like, but she was almost certain the poor little thing wouldn't live long enough to use them.

"Cubs this small can't survive without their mother," she said.

Luo Ye sighed and threw the needle into the trash can.

The kitten, whose eyes hadn't been opened yet, raised its head and looked around. It didn't cry, and it was very likely that it was looking for its mother.Luo Ye knelt on the floor and supported it with both hands, rubbed its forehead with the tip of his nose, and clumsily kissed its limp ears.

"You can kiss." He Yuan said as if he had seen something terrible, "Your lips are thin and sharp. I'm really afraid that you will cut them when you kiss them."

"Will you appear by my side when I lose my image?" Luo Ye lightly touched the kitten's back, then turned to look at He Yuan: "You are more punctual than Muse."

"Muse is never on time." He Yuan poured himself a cup of coffee with ease, without adding coffee mate or sugar cubes. "Let me think about it, are you still thinking about picking up a pen? You need to be famous as soon as possible."

"I don't think about becoming famous now, I think about my cat," the cat's waving claws scratched the back of his hand, Luo Ye hissed, pulled out the medical kit from under the bed and applied iodophor to himself, and he was familiar with the road.

He Yuan picked up his bedtime reading on the bedside table, which was "Doctor Zhivago". "It's really a special method of hypnosis."

"But you're here, I'm destined to suffer from insomnia," Luo Ye pushed the medical kit back under the bed: "I'm curious, I'm curious about everything about you."

Luo Ye spoke in a chatty tone, but his love for him made He Yuan almost shudder, he said: "Although my life is lacking, but if you ask me, I will know everything."

"It's just small talk, don't be so solemn," Luo Ye carried a stool for him to sit on, "Let's chat according to the development of realistic novels, and talk about why you became who you are now."

"If I hadn't met you, maybe I wouldn't be me. I am an arrogant person. One day I met you, and the moment I met you, I was subdued under your brilliance. Blind emotion turned me to myself, and that Surging emotions followed by criticism of myself, and that was the first time I saw my soul that was not completely dead." He Yuan said: "You have to believe me, I exist because of you. The last time I had to be hospitalized, because I couldn't separate reality from fantasy, it was because of you that I was able to return to the human world."

"I'm sorry." Luo Ye paused: "Which abundant, strong-willed me do you love, but now I'm just a lost lamb, waiting for the shepherd or Zarathustra to come to me Preach. I'm weak before I grow up, and I can't bring you strength."

"Your existence is my strength." He Yuan lowered his head and smiled sheepishly, spreading his hands on his knees: "Human life is continuous, and so is love. I love you in the future, so I love you now. Contains love. People have flaws, and flaws can also be loved."

"Okay, tell me about your shortcomings in loving me."

"I love you in the future who don't know current affairs."

"This is not a shortcoming, it is my consistent strength."

He Yuan rubbed his hands and said, "You can't imagine what writing will be like in the future."

"Just tell me and I'll know."

"We seldom use manuscript paper for writing in the future. We use computers. The words and formats that are typed out by the computer are all standardized."

"I thought using a typewriter was enough of a nightmare."

"What's even more nightmare is that popular novels are gradually becoming rigid and formatted." He considered his language and said, "Writing novels about love can't escape emotional drama. Engaging in emotional drama is missing, and what is more abusive than missing?" Sweet. Not to mention all kinds of forced things. Just separate, and then write about other things, while writing, ah, if xxx is there, there will be no xxx."

"Hahaha," Luo Ye laughed: "But you have to be sure, missing is indeed sweet."

"But their love is driven by regret. They once made an irreparable mistake, and then because they had a chance to do it all over again, because of redemption, the other protagonist fell in love with him because of the sacrifice of the protagonist. These authors, They are not sincere enough, they are not sincere in love, and they are not sincere in words." He Yuan stopped and said calmly: "I can't accept this kind of love, I believe in love so much, and I believe in you so much."

He raised his head slightly, "I can't imagine this way of writing, nor can I imagine them treating their own words like this."

"You are very sharp," Luo Ye said, "Too sharp."

He didn't say the remaining half of the sentence - "Sensitive people are always in pain."

"A keen person can always find happiness easily." He Yuan smiled very satisfied. He himself is a very easy-to-satisfy person. "Only by enduring small pains can we obtain small pleasures. The beauty of life is only in the misery of death." It is bright against the gray curtain."

He Yuan frowned, with a painful expression on his face: "But these are not mine in essence, this sentence is from Gide, the other sentence is from Akutagawa Ryunosuke, and the point of view is from Tolstoy... ..."

When he expressed his life as if suffering, his eyes shone like bright flames.His life seemed to be deformed in the heavy rain and lightning, turning into a purer and more beautiful substance.Luo Ye looked at him quietly, completely infected by his enthusiasm, just like Christine in "The Phantom of the Opera" who fell into the phantom's singing without any struggle.

The windows in Ward 121 of the mental hospital are bright and clean. There are few patients here, and the doctors are very leisurely.

"Are you okay?" the doctor asked.

"I don't talk to imaginary people," he sat calmly opposite the lily, and the brand new collection of Luo Ye's anthology was placed on the bedside table.

Doctor: "Then would you like to read a book for a while?"

"I can't read his book now."

"why?"

He Yuan turned his head and said with a smile: "I can't read his books, lest I have nothing to say when I see him because I know him."

"Even if you have met a person, you can't fully understand him, let alone a book. He is a good author, and I like him very much." The doctor comforted: "He also wrote a person who is very similar to you." , That is, there is another person in my mind, and another person can talk to others through time and space."

"I forgive your poverty, but you have to know that no matter whether a person treats his writing sincerely or not, there will always be a fox's tail showing." He Yuan casually picked up the book and stroked the spine with a smile: "You I don’t know the power of words, but you have to know, I know what kind of person you are since I was admitted to the ward.”

The doctor has seen many patients, many patients who know how to pretend to be ghosts, but he still makes the doctor feel scared and uncomfortable. He is a competent doctor and tries to keep calm: "You can't know, people have many faces."

"Your shoes, the pair under the table, are custom-made and specially matched with one of your ties." He Yuan approached with the book in his arms: "I have seen you make the cross on your chest, a gay who believes in God or would you like to give me some other advice?"

The doctor shook his head, his mind almost blank.

But he squatted down and pulled a beast hair from the doctor's trousers, "It's a dog. It's really disappointing. I thought it was a cat."

"No, how do you know I'm a—"

"Homosexuals," he nodded solemnly, "I can't tell you! I'll tell you the reason, everything will become purely rational, but I don't like rationality, I like a sense of ritual, so you can think , I asked the devil, and the devil said your soul belongs to him."