Today I suddenly think of Xiao Rao, I think of him because of a bowl of beef noodles. A beef noodle that was pushed by capital and sprinkled on the first floor of various shopping malls in major cities in China. It can order beef noodles with leeks and naan with peppers. Even though the soup is so salty and the pancake itself has a bread texture, it didn't stop my passion for pasta at all. When I was eating noodles with my head down, I heard a song about beef noodles in Lanzhou dialect being played in the shop. I suddenly remembered that many years ago I was sitting dignifiedly in the black and steaming beef noodle restaurant on the curb with ice balls, waiting to eat beef noodles with chives in a rough bowl. Unlike those who eat two and three, I like chives, and I don't think it's more difficult to make because of how delicious it is. In the gray Lanzhou, there are beef noodle restaurants in the streets and alleys. Every morning, people of all colors pour out of doors and crowds into these anonymous small restaurants, buying tickets, queuing, and serving noodles. The standard for men is to add an egg and a meat. A large knife cuts off a few pieces of meat on a large piece of beef, and puts it on a white plate to pick it up with a ticket. For the first time, when I sat here eating noodles in the early morning, I was amazed, surrounded by people, men, women, children, and old people, who were eating noodles with their heads down. Very skilled in hurry, leave quickly after eating, and hand over the warm bench to the next person. For the first time, I ordered capillaries. When I brought it up, it was such a big bowl, so I ordered a small bowl for soup, and picked some noodles into the small bowl to eat. Then, within a few minutes, my capillaries were washed away. Bubbling up and becoming unable to swallow. Since then, I have started the era of Beef Noodles with Leek Leaves.
Actually I'm not talking about beef noodles. Nor is it Lanzhou. There are many delicious things in Lanzhou, but most of them can only be produced and sold by themselves. Outsiders cannot understand these delicious foods, and these and food cannot be shipped anywhere. Just like all of China, only the beef noodles in Lanzhou have that flavor, and whichever one you open will have that flavor. Many Lanzhou things have this magical nature. A winter many years ago. I did the math and was surprised to find that it was already that winter 20 years ago. In December, a girl from my compound wanted to celebrate her boyfriend's birthday. I had just arrived in Lanzhou, and I was still sleeping on her bed, so I went there for a meal. A group of students' dinner, a group of children in thick cotton coats. I forgot what I ate, I remember when talking about the movie, Xiao Rao was sitting there with messy hair, unhealthy stubble on his cheeks, thin, with a cigarette in his hand, and said very lightly, I just I watched a movie called The Taste of Cherry. Through the table full of cheap food and noisy people, Xiao Rao and I became best friends during that time. He is rich and I am poor. He is willing to spend money to play with me, and I am willing to have someone treat me to dinner every day. Just like that, two people who didn't get along with each other became best friends. When I sing, they all laugh at me that every word is not in tune, but I still sing, whether it is in tune or not is not as important as giving money or not. For us 20 years ago, the most precious thing was our youth, otherwise we were very poor. The rich Xiao Rao is still very poor. Sometimes, we eat brushed mutton, roasted mutton and finger meat every day, and sometimes we eat in the dirty box restaurant by the school's back door. That street is full of muddy legs on rainy days. Often we will meet acquaintances eating in small restaurants from one end of the street to the other. After I finish my meal, I go shopping or go to the library. Xiaorao them, just go to the Internet cafe. In which muddy street, there are many crooked Internet cafes and crooked barber shops. In winter, there is a chimney at the door with blue smoke.
I was in the car in the warm sun today, passing through the streets of the wealthy city in the south. The trees were still green, and the sycamore trees began to turn red. People are not as huddled and clumsy as northerners do in winter. I suddenly remembered the 20 years I knew Xiao Rao. It doesn't seem like we're as deeply attached or involved in any of each other's lives as many old friends on TV. However, there are always moments when we have the same context. We have the same period of time in the same youth fragment in the same time and space, we are witnesses to each other. In a person's life, he keeps turning around and leaving without ever seeing each other. Therefore, many fragments will completely sink into the sea, no one will read it, and no one will light it up. They just lay there quietly, as if dead. I often think of the corresponding person in different scenarios. Xiao Rao, second sister, Yang Meili. I thought of Nine Girls, we have been living together for 10 years now. This is the last thing I expected, I have lived with such a man for 10 years without getting tired of it. Just this afternoon, we were bickering and hurting each other as we were 10 years ago. But, amazingly, I actually learned humor. I actually learned not to be that sharp knife in the relationship between two people. Unlike 10 years ago, at that time, we would worry about losing each other, doubt each other's love, would be frustrated and not be able to meet, and would be secretly annoyed that we couldn't embrace each other. Now, no matter where we are or what we do, every day, we go back to our home, eat and sleep in peace with those who are related to the two of us. We don't fight, we don't torture each other, because the hand of death is behind us, and it scares me all the time, and I'm so scared that one day I'm going to leave this life and the one who loves me.
But I also often think, what is love?
Is it real? Will it withstand a storm? If I become a complete pauper, will anyone still love me? If I can't move when I'm old, and can't get up when I'm sick, will this world still treat me as kind and gentle as it has always been?
I'm so scared. At night, when alone, I am afraid.
We are halfway through our life. It's not what I thought it was 20 years ago. Xiaorao and I often wandered the streets of Lanzhou, sometimes with the silly Liu Xiaoyu, and sometimes with the silly Wang Er. We are a group of marginalized people, a group of wastes that do not create any value. In the corner of the city, we see a lunatic washing his hair by the Yellow River, and he is taken care of. We were in a nightclub and saw a singer from city to city singing his dead love over and over again. Back then, I loved disco, I loved rock, and everything that seemed crazy. But I've never loved life, or love, or myself, or anyone else. I looked at the people around me with cold eyes and looked down on these people from the bottom of my heart. They are poor, they are ugly, they are boring and low-level, they are vulgar, they are waiting to die with nothing to do, it is better than the worthless me who loves dancing.
I remember the afternoon when Xiao Rao was sent to Beijing, he gave me all the money in my pocket, then turned around and disappeared into the bustling train station. I took the money and suddenly burst into tears. To this day, I don't know why I cried that day. I took the money, went out, and threw myself into the feasts. Until there is no money, then look for money, and then go to the disco to eat, drink and have fun. Except for youth and poverty, 20 years ago, we had nothing.
All will be separate. Me and my grandmother, my grandfather. I know my father, my mother. We will all be separate. So, I sometimes wish I was the first to die. That way I won't be afraid, I won't suffer the pain of loss, I won't be very sad. But I thought about the people waiting for me at the door in this city, if I died, would they be very sad, would they cry all night, and the time I spent with them, would they? It will become a piece of indulgence that no one cares about, no longer radiating the soft light of love, no longer read, no longer lit.
I looked at the sun outside the window, watched the night come, and watched the lights and stars intertwined in the distance.
So I plan to write some stories for my loved ones. When you miss me, these sad stories and my sad tears will accompany you in many lonely times.
In my story, there will be many people, they are in love and they are apart.
Then, in this story, there is actually only one person.
This is a story that belongs to only one person.
I gave this story a name and it was cheesy.
Night long dreams.
I love you, people I love.
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