An old man is reading a book under the phoenix tree.

In the morning, Xin Tong leaned against the window and read a book. Xin Tong gets up early every day and then reads books, which is her habit. She doesn't even know when this habit was formed. Probably for a long time. I have the habit of reading books in the morning since I was a child. Who remembers when Qing started?

It is an old man who has the same habit as her. Every day, at dawn, when the path is quiet, he will appear under the phoenix tree on time, holding a classic in his hand. Sitting on a stone bench, I sometimes read the Book of Changes, things go wrong, Chu Ci, Huai Nanzi, Tang Poetry and Song Ci, four classical novels, or like Xin Tong, Shen Fu's Six Chapters of a Floating Life, Huo Da's Muslim Funeral, Prost's Memories of Lost Years, Kafka's prose and so on. I can hardly read without books.

Xin Tong always looks at the old man and the book in his hand intentionally or unintentionally when he passes by the phoenix flower tree at work. The old man didn't read at this time, but his eyes were fixed on more and more office workers on the path. Sometimes frown, sometimes smile. He never gets tired of such scenery. How did he know that he had already become a unique and warm landscape in the hearts of passers-by?

The old man has passed his armor, but his face is not too vicissitudes. Occasionally, a few white hairs cover his forehead. Xintong likes to watch him laugh. His smile is so amiable, full of peace, and that kind of wisdom that can't be concealed.

The old man stood up and stretched himself. Xin Tong's eyes fell on the book on the stone bench again. This time he read Huai Nan Zi, so did Xin Tong, but the book was too abstruse for Xin Tong to understand. She always plans to reread it. She wanted to go and listen to him, but the time was too short and she had to go to work.

At this time, the old man stretched himself, adjusted his beige shirt, and wrapped his black trousers around his legs like straw. Because he is too thin, his body looks tall. Look up, just meet Xin Tong's eyes. The curiosity in Xin Tong's eyes can only be understood by similar people. This knowledge makes Xin Tong feel grateful. Smiling at each other, Xin Tong bowed his head and hurried by, leaving the old man watching her back until she disappeared.

Steal a day off. On this day, Xin Tong had nothing to do. I intend to study and write at home. Sitting by the window, the breeze turned the page and revealed a few lines. This scene is very similar to the description in Bai Luomei's article: "The breeze pokes in from the window, opens the page, and I can see a few lines as if nothing happened." For so many years, it's not that I teach Qingfeng to read, but that Qingfeng has been teaching me to read. "Xin Tong likes this description, as if the words were covered with mint. Cool, clear and transparent, like drinking sweet spring water.

For so many years, Xin Tong used to put his desk in front of the window, smell the wind and read and write every day. She thinks the only confidant is the breeze. It was the breeze that taught her to read and write.

"If one day, everyone forgets me, the breeze will remember my existence." Xin Tong thinks so.

The golden wind sent bursts of flowers. Xintong leaned against the window and watched. Osmanthus fragrans bloomed on the roadside, Bauhinia did not wither completely, bougainvillea bloomed in the park, and Phoenix bloomed again. It is the phoenix tree that the old man sits under the tree reading every day. Only that one is blooming, enchanting and lonely.

"I wonder if the old man is still studying there?" Xin Tong thought, ran downstairs and ran to the phoenix flower tree. There are messy books on the table, which can be read by the breeze.

Under the phoenix tree, the old man sat there like a rock. He is very serious when he studies, and the passing cars don't bother him at all.

Because of the hurry and for the sake of the old man, Xin Tong breathed out a sigh of relief and it took a long time to recover. Stand up straight and take a deep breath. She was so nervous that she took several deep breaths in a row before she calmed down a little.

"There you are." Like talking to an old friend, his voice is crisp and kind, and he is like a literary youth in his thirties. Wearing a white shirt and khaki slacks. The old man never leaves his books. At this point, he is reading twelve volumes of Huai Nan Zi [Ying Tao Xun].

"Well, here I am." Heart is completely relaxed, a kind of happiness of love at first sight.

"Still reading Huainanzi?" The old man closed the book and pointed his thin finger at the green slate next to him. "Sit here."

"Yes, I have." Xin Tong sat down. I humbly replied, "It's too profound to understand."

"In this impetuous era, fewer and fewer people read ancient books." The old man looked at passers-by, then at Xintong, and then sighed: "You are so young, it seems that you are as old as a flower. Even if you read a book, you probably just read a bestseller. " You still read classics, which are really hard to get. "

"Maybe I'm an old-school person, too." Xin Tong smiled wryly.

"Old-school people, old-school people." The old man murmured Xin Tong's words and said with an interesting smile, "We are all old-fashioned, so we are not alone." After thinking for a while, the old man said, "I can see that you are very interested in Huai Nan Zi. What don't you know? "

"This book is a collective creation and is composed of hundreds of teachers. The content is complex and profound, and it is difficult to understand the words and sentences. After reading it, it's still vague throughout. I hope the old gentleman will teach me. " Xin Tong said seriously and bowed deeply like the ancients.

The old man was amused by Xin Tong's lovely appearance and bowed his head with her. Xin Tong himself felt funny. Two people laughed again, laugh enough, just calm down and get down to business.

Before speaking, the old man suddenly asked, "What is the universe?"

"Up and down the quartet, through the ages." Xin Tong answered without thinking. Dabao once asked her the same question. At that time, her answer was a mess, and Dabao helped her correct it. What Xin Tong said to Dabao seems to have an extraordinary memory. Dabao. Xin Tong's face was sad at the thought of Dabao. He seems kind to any woman, but he is rude to her. Dabao is the eternal pain in her heart.

"Are you all right?" The old man asked with concern.

"Oh, I have sand in my eyes." Xintong hurriedly bowed his head and wiped away the tears that were about to fall. "Well, you go on, I'm listening."

The old man started with "Tao Xun", and his explanation was full of interest. Xin Tong forgot his sadness and listened with relish, cooing. Before I knew it was lunch time, the old man's cell phone rang. He took out his mobile phone from his trouser pocket and glanced at it. "It is my wife. It must be dinner. Come to my house for dinner? "

"No, I'll go back to eat." Xin Tong refused with a smile, urging, "You should go home quickly, because Jenny in the province is in a hurry."

"Well, see you another day." The old man waved goodbye.

"See you another day." Xin Tong also waved and the two separated.

Every weekend after that, Xin Tong will go to the Phoenix Flower Tree to study with his elders, discuss literature with them and promote literary inheritance. During that time, Xin Tong read several famous books and got a general understanding of the history of western literature.

Time flies, and it is autumn in a blink of an eye.

Xintong's company has set up a subsidiary. The company was short of manpower, so Xintong was transferred to support for two weeks. On the same day that Xintong went to the subsidiary, the old man's son came back from Canada. I heard that he will take his parents to live in Canada for a long time when he comes back. Before leaving, the old man entrusted his favorite books and personal collections to Xintong.

Xin Tong took the books, carefully opened one of them, Huai Nan Zi, and saw that the title page was circled, and the blank was filled with comments and experiences. Xin Tong turned from page to page, and when the wind blew, a piece of red paper fell to the ground. She bent down to pick it up and read the red note:

Looking at the old man's letter, Xin Tong couldn't help crying. Tears dripped on the red note, blurring the handwriting.

A loneliness depends on who complains, which is always a preface. Even if you love so much, you can't bring back a person who has changed his mind. No matter how much you give up, you should let go. Xin Tong dried his tears. Outside the window, phoenix flowers were flying and dripping on the stone bench lonely. ...