Wild Fire Bids Farewell To Summer Chapter 20
by1 after the autumnal equinox
23:00.
The lingering sound of the quiet school bell created turbulence in the corridor, hitting the terrazzo wall three times before dissipating.Wei Zhiheng stood at the staircase on the third floor of the Changgu Tower, holding the iron pipe handrail with his left hand. The green paint peeled off to reveal the silver-white metal, and the coolness spread through the palm of his hand into his ulna.He raised his feet, and his kneecaps made a dry rubbing sound.There was a scratch on the seventh step, left when the limestone specimen fell, intersecting with the dried blood to form a cross.He avoided that level and stepped onto the eighth level. The belt of the box cut into the hollow of his shoulder, leaving a red mark under the collarbone.
The voice-controlled lights in the corridor lit up with his footsteps, and the tungsten wires trembled.He stopped at the door of the art classroom, inserted the key into the keyhole, and the brass teeth were worn. After turning it clockwise twice, the lock tongue retracted and clicked.The door opened, its hinges groaning, and the darkness inside the studio poured out, carrying with it the dull smell of turpentine and plaster.
He walked in and held the door behind his back, but left it unlocked.The painting box was placed on the third painting table. The metal corners at the bottom of the box hit the terrazzo, making a crisp tremolo sound.The high stool creaked as he sat down.He arched his back and pressed his left hip with his right hand. There was a dull pain deep in his ilium, like a steel needle slowly rotating in the bone marrow cavity.The pain is dull, deep, and constantly rising.He maintained this position, his forehead pressed against the edge of the drawing board, and the edges of the pine wood frame pressed into his brow bone, causing a brief, superficial sting to cover up the deep dull pain.
The door was pushed open.Huang Jinye stood at the door with his right shoulder against the door frame. The zipper of his school uniform jacket was only pulled up to his chest, revealing the black sports vest underneath.He was holding a tin pencil case in his hand, and the pencils clattered inside the case, making a hollow sound.He walked in and closed the door with his backhand. The metal latch popped out and clicked.Then he dragged the easel, the scraping sound of the pinewood against the ground was harsh, and the easel was piled up in a zigzag shape behind the door.
Wei Zhiheng did not raise his head.He heard Huang Jinye’s footsteps, one heavy and one light, heavy on the right and light on the left, and there was a slight friction sound when his knees were bent.The footsteps stopped in front of him.
The iron pencil case is placed on the drawing table, and the lid is opened, revealing pencils arranged in rows.Yellow hexagonal pen barrel with “2B” printed on the surface.Huang Jinye picked up one. There were teeth marks on the pen barrel, which were bitten when he was thinking. They formed uneven dents.He picked up the pencil sharpener. The metal casing was rusty and the blade was exposed for three millimeters.
He began to sharpen his first pencil.
The blade scraped against the wood, making a rustling sound.The sawdust curled up and fell, with a light yellow color and a soft texture, and accumulated on the edge of the painting table.When Wei Zhiheng heard the sound, his eardrums sunk inward.He tried to count the scratches, but he counted to seven, forgot, counted from the beginning again, counted to three, and jumped to nine.The numbers are jumbled, like a disrupted metronome.
The bone pain continues.A dull pain deep in my left hip spread toward my sacrum.He curled up, his knees pulled up to his chest, and his back arched into a shrimp shape.The right hand hangs down by the side, the fingers are spread out, the fingernails are glowing with light purple, and the underside of the nail bed seems to be embedded with purple ink.
Huang Jinye finished sharpening his first pencil.The nib is perfectly conical and has a sharp graphite core.He placed the pencil on the corner of the desk.Then pick up the second one.
The rustling continued.Wei Zhiheng put his left hand into his trouser pocket and touched a hard object with his fingertips.Limestone specimen, ivory white with gray chert bands.He tightened his grip, the edge cutting into his palm, the sting sharp, contrasting with the dullness of the bone pain.
The second pencil was halfway sharpened when Huang Jinye’s hand shook, and the blade scraped a deep groove on the penholder.The pen core broke again. He directly removed the broken core with his hands. The black debris bounced up and landed on the back of his hand and on Wei Zhiheng’s school uniform pants, like tiny cinders.Without pausing, he picked up the third stick and whittled harder. The wood chips flew away, no longer curled, but broken pieces.
I don’t know how much time passed, but the sky outside the window was still dark.There was the muffled sound of an iron barrel being dragged downstairs, rolling at the end of the corridor.Wei Zhiheng’s count was interrupted, and Huang Jinye’s sword paused.Blood seeped out from the scratches on the Yellow Ember Tiger’s mouth – it was left when rocks were smashed during the day – and dripped onto the painting table, mixing with graphite chips to form red-black mud.
Huang Jinye shook his hand, and the blood beads splashed on Wei Zhiheng’s school uniform pants, mixing with the previous graphite chips into a gray-red color.He didn’t stop, just wiped his fingers on his shorts and continued to peel the fourth one.
Wei Zhiheng smelled the smell.What came from Huang Jinye: the acidity of sweat, the rust of blood, and the astringency of stone powder.The sour rot of the glutinous rice eaten in the morning emanated from Wei Zhiheng himself, and the smell of rotten apples settled in the lower layers of the air.
The fifth branch.Huang Jinye’s thumb drew a line on the blade. He hissed and put his finger into his mouth. The smell of blood spread in his mouth.He continued whittling, faster and rougher, the blade burring.When he cut the seventh pen, the pen core broke again. He directly dug out the broken core with his fingernails, and black graphite was embedded in the gaps between his fingernails.
Wei Zhiheng started counting pencils, but made a mistake.One, two, three, five.He skipped four.The fingernails made crescent-shaped indentations in the palm of the hand, pressing against the coin-sized piece of purpura, causing dull pain and sharp pain, used to fight the dull bone pain.
On the drawing table, sawdust and graphite shavings are mixed.The yellow wood chips are no longer neatly curled, but broken into flakes; the black graphite powder is fine.Huang Jinye cut to the eighth piece, and his hands were so sore that he couldn’t hold the knife. He changed hands, holding the knife in his left hand and turning the pen in his right hand. His posture was awkward, and the sound of the blade scraping against the wood became intermittent, like bones grinding in a joint cavity.
Wei Zhiheng’s bone pain worsened.The dull pain turned into a heaviness, like someone falling.He curled up tighter, the barstool groaning dangerously.His right hand slipped from the drawing table, and his knuckles hit the edge of the wood with a muffled sound.The purpura on the fingernails burns under impact.
Huang Jinye noticed the sound, looked up, then lowered his head to cut the ninth stick.His eyes were dry, his blinking rate slowed down, and his eyelashes were stained with graphite powder.
The tenth branch.The blade has become dull, and sharpening turns into scratching, making a harsh sound, like fingernails scratching a blackboard.Huang Jinye continued compulsively, and the scar on the tiger’s mouth oozed blood again under the violent movements. The blood beads flowed along the palm lines to the wrist, dripped on the painting table, and mixed with graphite chips.
Wei Zhiheng’s breathing became heavy.He couldn’t lie down, couldn’t lie on his side, and could only stay curled up.He smelled the smell in his mouth: sweet, rotten, like rotten apples mixed with rust.
The eleventh branch.Huang Jinye’s pen-sharpening speed slowed down, not because he was finished, but because he was tired.His right hand was shaking, and the muscles under his skin were trembling slightly.He picked up the twelfth one, the last one, but stopped after whittling it twice. It wasn’t that he had finished whittling it, but the knife was really dull.He put down the knife, held the pen core between his thumb and forefinger, and broke it off, letting black powder leak out from between his fingers.
Twelve pencils, more or less, were arranged in an uneven row at the corner of the table.Some nibs were sharp, some were broken, and some were only half-sharpened.
Huang Jinye took out a piece of eucalyptus candy from his pocket. It was wrapped in tin foil and had green stripes. It had softened and deformed.He tore the package open with his teeth, the foil making a tearing sound.The sugar cubes turn amber in color when exposed to air.He didn’t hand it to Wei Zhiheng, but stuffed it into his mouth and bit it with his teeth. The candy was hard and scratched the oral mucosa.Chewing, swallowing, Adam’s apple rolling.Then he took out another piece from his pocket and handed it to Wei Zhiheng.
It’s not handing it over, it’s stuffing it.Huang Jinye pinched the candy with his fingers and stretched towards Wei Zhiheng’s lips.The vermilion border of the lower lip was dry and cracked when touched with the fingertips, and it stung when touched.The moment the sugar cube is pushed into the mouth and touches the tongue, the pungent taste of cineole stimulates the taste buds, covering up the previous sweet and rotten taste.Wei Zhiheng’s tears welled up. They were not emotional tears, but a physiological reaction.He closed his mouth and bit the sugar cube with his teeth. The sugar cube was hard and angular on the surface, scraping the oral mucosa and causing a clear sting.
Huang Jinye bent down, picked up the accumulated graphite chips and black powder from the ground, and held it in the palm of his hand.He walked up to Wei Zhiheng, knelt down and touched the ground with one knee.He stretched out his left hand and spread it out, palm upward. Inside was a pile of black graphite chips, which were cold.
Wei Zhiheng stretched out his right hand and hovered over Huang Jinye’s palm, stopping two centimeters away from the graphite chips.The fingers were splayed, the joints were stiff, and the purpura on the fingernails showed a swollen purple color under the light.
Stop action.
Fingers hover like frozen bird talons.Huang Jinye did not move. He remained in a kneeling position with his palms upward.Wei Zhiheng’s fingers spasmed and trembled in the air, and finally fell down. His fingertips touched graphite chips, which were cold, like limestone.
He clenched his fingers, graphite chips embedded in the gaps between his nails, mixed with the wood chips and stone powder from before.He pulled his hand back and balled it into a fist.
Huang Jinye stood up, his kneecaps making a rubbing sound.He walked back to the drawing table, put the pencils into the iron writing box, and closed the lid with a click.Then he sat on the chair next to him, side by side with Wei Zhiheng, with a distance of thirty centimeters between them.He didn’t speak.
Outside the window, the sound of water flushing the toilet in the early morning came from the dormitory building in the distance. It was dull and lasted for five seconds.Then there is the prelude to the morning reading preparation bell, the murmur of electricity, not yet in tune.
Wei Zhiheng remained curled up.Huang Jinye sat next to him, holding a fist in his right hand. The blood from the tiger’s mouth had solidified and turned dark red.
There was no conversation all night.Only the rustle of pencil sharpening echoes in my memory, like bones grinding in a joint cavity.Graphite shavings accumulated on his knees, cold as ashes.
The sky began to whiten, turning from jet black to deep blue.Wei Zhiheng raised his head. The bleeding spots on his retinas made the sky look like a piece of melting limestone.He let go of the hand holding the graphite chips, and black powder leaked from his fingers and fell to the ground, mixing with Huang Jinye’s blood.
Huang Jinye stood up, his knees making a dry rubbing sound.He lifted the iron writing box, and the pencils clanged inside the box, making a hollow sound.He walked towards the door and removed the easel. The bottom of the easel rubbed against the ground, making a harsh sound.He opened the door, and the voice-activated light in the corridor turned on. Pale light poured in, illuminating the layer of red and black graphite chips on the ground.