2

——I have to admit that even though I have a lot of talents, there are times when I can't use my talents.

I wonder if you have experienced such obstacles when creating?

For example, I have finalized the characters, and also determined the origin, process and outcome of the story. However, as the narrative gets better and better, and the characters seem to have a life of their own, the story goes off track without realizing it. Even if the train finally arrives at its intended destination, the tracks it travels are no longer the ones that were laid in advance. If we look back, basically no modifications or changes will be made. "It's good to write it this way!". But in our heart, it is inevitable that I will still feel nostalgic and unwilling for the few things that are missing.

So many times, even though I already know the story I want to write next, I no longer have the motivation to continue writing. Thus, a fragmentary novel with a beginning and no end was born. It is worth mentioning that I have accumulated so many fragments of novels that I can publish a collection of fragments of novels, and use those stories that are difficult to see the ending to severely flog the hearts of readers who do not know how to appreciate them. ——Not necessarily. Maybe one day I will have a sudden impulse to continue composing those fragments. Until then, please have some fun! I will free disclose the endings of those stories to readers who have purchased the collection of fragmented novels, so you can think of it as a bargain! After all, how many times can you get a bargain in your life?

Of course, this is not the only reason why the story cannot be written. Because I am talented, inspiration will flash through my mind several times every moment, and I am a person who is good at innovating and innovating. Naturally, I will throw the ongoing story out of the sky several times and turn to open up a new front. However, this time, I must finish this autobiography. If you don't leave behind a complete novel after your death - that would be somewhat of a pity, and it would be an extremely serious blow to the progress of human literature. ——Although the autobiography cannot be called a novel.

However, at present, there is little hope that this confession can be completed.

This is force majeure! It's definitely not because I don't want to write anymore!

In short, I left my computer in the restaurant.

A brief separation from electronic products - this is simply a kind of torture for contemporary college students. I had no choice but to use a signature pen to write crooked Chinese characters on a piece of crumpled manuscript paper I found somewhere—can't even be called standard characters—to record my current state of mind. I have been apart from handwritten Chinese characters for many years, and now we see each other, as if separated by a thick and sad barrier. I looked at this manuscript paper with half of the Chinese characters replaced by phonetic symbols, and I couldn't help but lament. A genius like me would be in such a dilemma, let alone other college students?

I need to go back to that restaurant and get my computer back. However, a sense of laziness arose, maybe I don't have to be so anxious to get the computer back. Today is peaceful time, and even if my computer is left in a restaurant for a whole year, I guess it won't be lost. I needed to enjoy the process of writing with pen and paper, and I needed to regain that vital but missing skill. At least, stop writing in phonetic symbols.

——It's just a joke. Of course I can't live without a computer. I would die without a computer. Next time I go to that restaurant to eat, yes, next time, I will take my computer back. If nothing else, I will go to that restaurant again tomorrow.

Just as I was calculating the time to go to that restaurant for lunch so that I could have time to go back to the dormitory and rest for a while before going to class tomorrow afternoon, I was interrupted by the message notification tone on my phone. My phone has always been on silent, but for some reason lately it has been making unintentional noises.

I turn on my phone.

"So hungry."

I remembered that the owner of this message sent me the same two words in the afternoon. Although I don't want to go out at the moment, I can't help but feel excited when I think that I might have the opportunity to get my own computer back.Just wait, my computer!

I replied to the owner of the message, "I'm so hungry too," then changed my clothes and planned to go out.

·

Autumn nights in Beijing are no different from autumn nights in other places. The only special thing is that at night, two male college students have to walk a kilometer away to find food. Of course, some people say that autumn nights in Changping District cannot be counted as autumn nights in Beijing.

When it comes to what autumn is, some would say golden fallen leaves, while others would say a mild cold. But if you ask me, wearing short sleeves at noon and a coat at night, you can even see bloated down jackets when walking on the road - this is autumn. From spring to fall we are constantly "night-eating."

Not long after midnight, we don't even need to say "I'm so hungry" or "Uh". As long as we open the door of the other party's bedroom, we can understand each other's intention, and then change our clothes and go downstairs tacitly. We faced the dormitory manager with a smile on our face, then opened the dormitory door and poured into the boundless night.

Although it is "eating", we know exactly where our destination is, and what we enjoy is not just eating. The journey is the most important part. We exchanged recent ideas on the road, and the silent night road was a refuge for our thoughts.

"I'm going to write a novel called 'Girl Don't Appear in Front of the Bench.'" he said.

He has been saying this since the end of last semester until now. Time flies. If he haven't finished the novel in the future, he will never feel like that again when he was a senior. When we move to Dongcheng District, I'm afraid everything we did in Changping will be forgotten. It will be no longer possible to be moved by the scene, so how could he write about it?

This "scene" refers to a bench.

One night last semester, he and I finished eating. We were not in a hurry to return to school, but on a whim, we walked a lot further north. I have forgotten the specific reason, maybe there is no reason at all. "How about taking a walk?" "Let's go!" That's who we are.

A bench stretched across the road. Without thinking, he and I sat on the bench and stared boredly at the bus stop sign across the street.

"It would be nice if a dark-haired girl passed by," I said. "But the girl will not appear in front of the bench."

"Yeah, girls won't show up in front of the bench."

The street lights have long since gone out. There was no traffic at all. Even if a girl passes by the bench, we can't boldly conclude that her hair color is black.

"I'm going to write a play," he said.

"What play?"

"Summer play."

It was early summer, and the teacher in the writing class assigned them such an assignment.

"I've thought a lot about it. Realistic themes. Stories about high school classmates, lingering first love..." he said, "but I think it's better not to think about it so much."

"Then what are you going to write?"

"...Girl don't appear in front of the bench. Yes, 'Girl don't appear in front of the bench'. Summer—summer night, just right!"

I laughed out loud with him. Laughter echoed along the empty road. The city of Beijing is still lonely, let alone the suburbs of Beijing.

Summer night, no, no matter what night in Changping, there is really empty.

I think that even if the girl existed, she would not come to the bench where weirdos like us sit.

As a result, until now, whether it is a script or a novel, there is not even a shadow of the work "Girl Don't Appear in Front of the Bench".

However, it doesn't matter. I knew without even thinking what he would write.

Love triangle. He will definitely write a story of love triangle!