Tokyo Sound

"I just really want to have a drink with my friends. I've been thinking about it for a long time." The young man said as he poured half of the other small cup.

For some reason, Yin Ze assumed that the cup was for him and reached out to take it.

The two of them clinked their glasses together, then each drank half a sip of the wine.

The young man coughed a few times because of the spiciness, and after a few coughs, he started laughing again.

The two people stared at the lake in front of them at the same time.

The night is deep.

The moonlight emits a fragrant and mysterious glimmer, occasionally shining through the swaying leaves. The cool night breeze stops and starts. The moon also causes a faint tide between the ears.

"Why is there a bridge?" the young man asked quietly.

"Because the road ends." Yin Ze answered casually.

"I heard that there is a Naihe Bridge in the old stories handed down. Is it true?" asked the young man.

"Who can know this?" Yin Ze rubbed his eyes again.

"I also heard there is a place called Sanzu River," said the young man.

“Well, there are similar sayings everywhere.”

Yin Ze yawned and looked at the bottle of Lao Baigan in confusion.

"Why do I feel a little sleepy? It's only half a sip, so it shouldn't be that serious. Is this fake wine? It shouldn't be fake wine, right? It's not like I haven't encountered this before..."

The young man didn't answer for a moment, but just showed his signature shy smile and put the bottle of wine on the ground.

There was a brief silence.

"You're not sleepy, you just need to wake up." The young man gently stroked Yin Ze's shoulder. He turned his eyes and was filled with red and swaying gratitude. He said for the third time, "Really... thank you very much."

Yin Ze pressed his forehead. Memories were like fish scales scraped by a knife, some still on the body, some dropped into the water, and when the water was stirred, some pieces would tumble and flicker.

Getting sleepier and sleepier.

Can't blink any more.

What a thick fog and what a big lake.

Is this a lake?

Yin Ze was suddenly startled and opened his eyelids which were twitching up and down.

There is no park near the company. There is one three kilometers away.

But where could there be such a big lake that could even produce the sound of distant waves? Under the thick fog, you couldn't even see the edge of the waves.

Yin Ze looked around in confusion.

My hometown also disappeared in an instant, like turning the page of a book.

At the edge of the ebb and flow of the tide, there were only two people left.

A swan-shaped boat floated from the sea far away, but when you look closer, it is actually a small boat covered with a straw raincoat.

"In fact, the end of the road is still the road. Just keep going." The young man said softly, then stood up and walked towards the boat.

"Wait!" Yin Ze heard many cracking sounds in his ears, and his head was in pain, so painful that he had to press his head to relieve it. He stretched out his remaining hand, but grabbed nothing.

"I should have left a long time ago." The young man turned his head and smiled a bright smile that could blend into the moonlight. He said, "Brother Yin Ze, it's great to see you one last time. After all, there are no friends who you never see in person."

As time goes by, the wind blows and frost hangs on Yin Ze's fingertips. Spring flowers, autumn moon, summer days, winter snow. You change you, and I change me.

The young man's smile never faded as he spoke calmly.

"It may rain tomorrow, something unhappy may happen, the rice may not be cooked, the sugar in the coffee may not melt, or there may not be many stars to be seen at night."

"But if you live well today, tomorrow will be fine."

"You must firmly believe that the tomorrow you want will come as promised."

"Come on."

The words are getting farther and farther away.

Yin Ze took only a few steps before he collapsed to the ground, dizzy.

The last sentence is.

"Hey, have a good morning, good afternoon, and good night."

……

Instruments, electric meters, indicator lights.

In the night ward, electronic medical equipment flickered.

Yin Ze slowly opened his eyes, and after waking up, he took a deep and long breath. A warm current spread from his heart to his limbs.

There was a mechanical breeze coming from the ventilator in my nasal cavity, and the low humming sound of the machine was in my ears.

Outside the window is the light of the city.

The world is peaceful.

Yin Ze raised his right hand with great effort, took off the oxygen mask, unplugged the needle connected to the hose on his arm, and then the electrodes on his chest and abdomen. He gritted his teeth, firmly supported the edge of the bed and sat up.

The body feels a little weak and dizzy.

But the consciousness is clear and the memory is clear.

Is it a big dream?

Yin Ze turned his head and saw a notebook with marks on it next to the pillow. It was obvious that no one except him knew why the things locked in the locker of the rented house in Tokyo were here.

I opened the weightless cover and saw a lot of blank paper with nothing written on it.

I kept flipping through the pages until I finally saw some text in the middle.

I wrote it myself. The first sentence is "Hello, I am Yin Ze".

The man closed the diary again and looked at the city outside the window, his hair hanging down from his forehead.

He sighed.

One week later.

There are cemeteries in residential areas in Japan. Sometimes you can even see neat little vertical tombstones standing on the balcony. Temples also have cemeteries, and they are located in the bustling city center of Tokyo. Some are only separated by a wall from office buildings or hotels. It can even be said that temple cemeteries are very popular and you may not be able to buy them even if you have money.

There is also an ordinary cemetery on the outskirts of Tokyo, with gray and white mixed in the mountains and forests.

The administrator is an old man who has been on the job for more than ten years. He walks around every day. The wine box filled with half a can of sake makes a sound as it swings around his waist, and the old cigarettes emit a smell of tobacco with a sense of age.

The old man walked along the hillside humming an outdated tune.

A man in the distance placed a bouquet of flowers in front of the simple tombstone and wiped the old dust off the tombstone with a cloth.

Yin Ze took a few steps back, put his hands behind his back, and remained silent for a while.

"Based on our age and our relationship, I should call you uncle." He said in a calm voice, "I'm sorry, I should have come earlier. I didn't know he... Never mind. Until now, I'm still unsure of many things."

Yin Ze took out a pack of Seven Stars 14, lit one, and placed it on the monument. In Takizawa Satoru's memory, this was what his father usually smoked.

"Let me have one to go with you." Yin Ze lit another one.

Even at 14 joules, Japanese cigarettes are too light, but the taste is indeed smooth and mellow.

There were few human voices here, only a few small wild birds. When the birds got tired of flying, they stopped and tilted their heads to look at the man standing there, who spoke very little.

"I've already reserved this one next to me." Yin Ze pointed to the grave next to him and said softly, "When I die, I'll bury me here. I'll return your child to you."

The smoke of Qixing is very short and it is gone in a few puffs. It also burns very quickly.

Yin Ze lit another cigarette and placed it on the stele, silently waiting for it to burn out. He then threw the ashes and butts into a small ash bag he bought at the 100-yen store. He bent down and picked up some weeds and garbage.

"Uncle, I'm leaving now. I'll come back next time." Yin Ze raised his hand slightly, "I've booked a flight home. I'll go back and take a look."

The flight was filled with the airline's thanks and reminders to the passengers, once in Japanese, once in Chinese, and once in English.

Yin Ze looked at the sky and clouds gradually rising outside the window, and he felt as if he could touch the sun with his hand.

So far, yet so close.

Just like life can be a body of several feet or a vast plain.

Once again at the end of the volume

A journey in the sky. While others were sleeping, Yin Ze was always looking at the endless sea of ​​clouds.

The airport is always bright, with planes from various countries landing like birds. They have a brief encounter here, meet each other hastily and then set off firmly, crossing seasons and time, with people coming and going. There are many passengers running around, and most of them hear the most familiar languages ​​and dialects. Some people say goodbye, some reunite, with calm faces or full of emotions.

The airport is also a small human world, and these things are repeated year after year.

Yin Ze stood in the spacious and clean terminal, feeling a little lost for a moment. It felt like a lifetime ago. But he knew he was not a tourist, not a passer-by.

After taking a deep breath, Yin Ze strode out.

Outside Jiangbei International Airport, the familiar "yellow Ferrari" was seen again. Taxis were lined up in rows, and many of them had racing car decals pasted on the sides of their bodies, showing that the kind-hearted drivers valued the comfort of passengers.

"Handsome guy! Where are you going?" The old driver spoke fluent Mandarin with a hint of salt and pepper.

"Take me around, toward Beibin Road." Yin Ze said with a smile.

"Handsome guy, you just came back from outside. I saw you didn't bring your suitcase?"

"I didn't bring it. I left in a hurry."

Even though he grew up eating hotpot, Yin Ze doesn't dare to guarantee that he knows every road and every path clearly. He has to use navigation here. He once spent dozens of minutes looking for an Internet cafe, and finally found that the Internet cafe was actually on the Y axis. It was only when he went to other places that he was surprised to find that the roads in the city can be straight and straight.

Countless buildings are built against the mountains, and the houses and roads are perfectly integrated with the mountains and forests. It is a veritable mountain city.

It prospered because of the river and was famous for its mountains. The city was folded, the roads were suspended in the air, and the river flowed for thousands of miles here.

The peninsula is a sea of ​​lights, the Buddha statue is in the night rain, the cliffs are thousands of feet high, the steps are thousands of layers, and the two rivers are like ribbons...

Yin Ze deliberately asked the old driver to drive around a bit more, and when crossing the Yangtze River Bridge, he couldn't help but roll down the window to take in the mountains and rivers. The summer in my hometown makes people feel hot and full of joy.

Seeing that the passenger had not returned for many days, the chatty old driver enthusiastically acted as a tour guide, talking in a series of ways, and I guess he had read Li Boqing's storytelling. While introducing, he also did not forget the driver chat group on his phone. After passing a few intersections, the old driver reported the road conditions twice, his voice was leisurely, and the car was moving slowly.

Overpasses crisscross each other, and vehicles traveling along the same path may run over the top of the bridge in a few minutes. This is full-space transportation. The light rail jumps out from under the road surface, like a carp breaking through the water, and soars away.

Gradually, Yin Ze was able to give directions to the old driver and became more and more familiar with the way. Finally, he took the initiative to ask to stop by the roadside and wanted to go on his own.

"Hello handsome guy. Keep your phone and wallet in hand." The veteran driver waved his hand coolly, stepped on the accelerator and disappeared.

Riding on the wind of his hometown, Yin Ze's steps were brisk.

It was clearly just an ordinary scene, but perhaps because of the sunlight, the vision seemed a little hazy.

There is no need to call up the corridor of life, those brilliant, precious and sparkling memories are flowing before your eyes.

Never been so close!

The docks, which were once crowded with people, may no longer be as busy as they once were, and there are fewer and fewer people carrying a meter-long bamboo stick on their shoulders and climbing up the slopes. But some things, like banyan trees, live wherever they are planted, holding their heads high in the wind, growing vigorously, and are difficult to destroy.

Yin Ze thought of many things, and these things were like spring buds breaking through the soil and could not be suppressed at all.

There are open-air movies on summer evenings and canned drinks with ashes falling from the sky filled with fireworks during festivals.

There was also the fried rice with lard, salt, and chopped green onions from his great-grandmother. I have forgotten the exact taste, but I remember it was very fragrant. When he was a child, he liked to rub QQ candy, and his fingers would get dusty, and the candy would also get dusty. When his great-grandmother saw this, even though she had bad legs and feet, she would pull his ears and mutter with her toothless mouth, saying not to dirty the food.

The table tennis table in the elementary school was made of cement, which was so hard. The rackets with the rubber peeled off were also hard... but some guys liked the empty rackets without the rubber, thinking they felt better. There were few balls, so if they were deflated, they would be restored manually. Although badminton does not require a forced court, the ball cannot be restored, but even if there are still a few hairs, it will continue to be beaten until it is retired.

You can even borrow playing cards from the gym in middle school... but that deck contains 6 Aces and 8 2s, and the backs of the cards are the same, which is really not simple.

When Master Yin started high school, his grades were not ideal, so his family set their sights on art exams. In fact, many people choose to be art students for similar reasons. However, Master Yin loved to paint and draw when he was a child, watched art creation programs, and made handicrafts that no one wanted even if they sold them for 5 cents, so he can be said to have some artistic talent.

Many times in his dreams, Yin Ze sighed, wondering why he had chosen the path of being an artist. Fortunately, at least he had not chosen the path of being a cartoonist. I heard that cartoonists are good at making fried rice, and many of them have set up stalls.

In the basement of Huangjueping, he arranged lines, learned to draw, and seriously appreciated the handwriting of historical masters as a student. Yin Ze gradually fell into it, and fell into the spiritual starry sky that he had always looked up to.

Stay up all night, watch model paintings during the day, fall asleep while standing, do routine exercises, and unconsciously draw in Picasso style. Everyone's paintings are not very good, but the pencils are sharpened better than each other. The repeater said that we should eat less hairy strings near the classroom, otherwise we will have to repeat the year, but Yin Ze didn't believe it. The teacher said that although you are tired and sleepy now, you will miss this time in the future. Yin Ze, who can sleep while standing, didn't believe it at the time, but he will believe it in the future.

There is a graffiti street outside Huangjueping, with various graffiti on buildings, walls, campuses, and store exteriors. The old street, which is sparsely populated and quiet, silently releases the weight of time through the murals.

Over the years, the graffiti on the wall has been covered up countless times. The small piece that Yin Ze drew with his friends as a souvenir should have been covered up by the new classmates.

My heart is beating so fast.

Yin Ze instantly forgot about the "Teacher Yin Ze" who is now famous in the Japanese game and animation industry. He suddenly felt that those things were a bit far away, too far away. He should still be the little student who could barely get 250 points in sketching, quick sketching, and color, and should still be the popular original artist who was struggling with which class to apply for this year and improve himself.

The road under my feet is so familiar. It’s the way home from school.

At the back door of the elementary school, there is a fried chicken strip, which is juicy and tasty, but a little expensive, costing one or two yuan. Further down is the big market, where many people come on the fifth of every month, and you can find things that are not easy to buy on other days. There is also a shop selling sesame cakes here, with honey added to the freshly baked sesame cakes, which are crispy on the outside and sweet and soft on the inside. For elementary school students, one is enough to fill them up, and it is not expensive.