The reason for wanting to cut his hair short is simple, this long hair does not belong to him.

Yi Hui was accustomed to thinking in a simple and direct way, but later he had to think deeply, and then he dully felt that the question he asked was absurd and ridiculous.

It doesn't belong to him, and this body doesn't belong to him from head to toe. What's the point of seeking affirmation and support from others?

On the way back, it suddenly started to rain. At first, a few sparse drops fell from the dark clouds, but soon it turned into a torrential rain. The big raindrops hit the iron roof like a rainbow. The van with poor sound insulation was full of urgency and dullness. Heavy noise.

The woman in the driver's seat commanded while waiting for the red light: "Yimang, close the window, don't let your brother catch a cold."

The girl retracted her arm resting on the edge of the window, and while struggling to break the window, she pouted and complained about something.

Yi Hui shifted his gaze from the window on his side to the window on the other side that was not fully closed, and looked outside through a gap several inches wide.

The autumn rains here are very different from those in the capital. They are as fine as silk, like silver threads falling from the sky, with the warmth and stickiness unique to the south.

The residents here are also very different from the capital. There are many small vendors selling tropical fruits on both sides of the road. Their shoulders are soaked in the heavy rain.

I wonder if Jiang Yihui, who came here from the capital three years ago, could not break away from the fast-paced life and adapt to this peaceful and leisurely paradise.

It may be a coincidence, or it may be a joke made by God. The original owner of this body is also called "Hui". When you read it without the surname, it has a subtle similarity with "Yi Hui".

If he was still alive, Jiang Yihui would be a young boy in his twenties. His mother Jiang Xuemei was driving in front, and his sister Jiang Yimang was sitting next to him.

This is an ordinary single-parent family consisting of a mentally ill eldest son, a young daughter in middle school, and a mother who struggles to raise two children.

If you have to say something unusual, Jiang Xuemei's partiality towards her son can be counted as Yi Hui's understanding of the family after occupying this body for ten days.

After all, for the sake of his son's good mood, he moved his family from the capital to this remote southern island. The biological mother who loved Yi Hui in the past could not do it.

Therefore, Jiang Yimang was dissatisfied with this brother, and verbally provoked from time to time. When Yi Hui straightened out this uncomplicated family relationship, he fully understood this.

"Yihui, did you have a good time chatting with Dr. Liu today?"

His thoughts were interrupted by Jiang Xuemei's words, Yi Hui looked back and said, "I'm very happy."

Jiang Xuemei smiled and nodded: "That's good. Mom bought shrimp, do you want to eat boiled or sweet and sour?"

Jiang Yimang next to him snorted softly, and Yi Hui pushed the boat along and threw the question to his sister: "Listen to Yimang."

He can't make up his mind about this kind of personal preference, and he can always hide if he can.

It's not that he didn't want to tell the truth, but whenever he looked at Shang Jiang Xuemei with concern, he couldn't say the words that came out of his mouth.

No matter whether he is cowardly or selfish, no matter how stupid or stupid he was in the past, he knew how painful the death of a loved one was.

Jiang Yihui committed suicide. From the few words he left before his death, it can be seen that he could not find the meaning of life and really did not want to live.

Yi Hui couldn't feel the same way. As a person who clearly knew that he was different from others, he never gave up his efforts, and greeted every difficulty that befell him with an optimistic attitude. What's more, what Jiang Yihui is facing is only a lack of talent, and it is rare to find a confidant.

However, unless you experience things in person, you do not have the position of guessing and questioning.

Yi Hui shook his head, feeling that this thought was superfluous. At the moment, he was too busy to take care of himself. Although it was a mistake, what should he do next? Whether to pretend that nothing happened to replace Jiang Yihui's identity, or to find an opportunity to confess to them that he had accidentally occupied the magpie's nest.

Back at home, Jiang Xuemei went to the kitchen to prepare lunch, Jiang Yimang locked the door when he returned to his room, Yi Hui had nothing to do, and went to the downstairs studio to sit for a while.

The father of the Jiang family passed away early, and it was all supported by Jiang Xuemei's odd jobs alone. His life was not stretched, but he was not well-off. One or two can be seen from Jiang Yimang's dress that he wore and wore again.

Under such conditions, Jiang Xuemei insisted on renting a detached house and vacated a dedicated studio, which proved her preference for her son from another perspective.

The studio is arranged in the only room facing south downstairs.

The wooden cabinet in the corner looks stained, but when you approach it, you can find that the surface is spotlessly polished, and the few trophies are shiny.

Yi Hui raised his hand and slid his fingers over the uneven characters on the base of the trophy. He thought to himself, if Jiang Yihui was not ill and could occasionally produce a few paintings to subsidize the family as before, this family's life should be much easier.

During the nine days that he occupied this body, Yi Hui had a general understanding of the original owner's basic information.

Jiang Yihui, 24 years old, won the first prize of the International Painting Competition for two consecutive years, and dropped out of the second year of the Capital Academy of Fine Arts.

This is another coincidence between the two other than their names. Yi Hui also likes to draw.

The difference is that in the past, he did not have such a strong purpose in painting, let alone self-motivation, so he did not understand why Jiang Yihui could fall into depression because he could not create works that he was satisfied with, and even embarked on the road of self-destruction.

Yi Hui has seen many of his works. No matter in terms of line, color or conception, it is undeniable that he is a very spiritual creator. Maybe people with talents that others can't match have some loneliness and aloofness, but sometimes stubbornness can just become a sharp blade that stabs at oneself.

As a fellow who has studied art, among these works left by Jiang Yihui, what Yi Hui admires most is not the ones that have won awards and won high praise, but one that is stuffed in the lower layer of the locker, with a Landscape paintings of piles of scraps put together.

The subject of the painting is a house, surrounded by a clear sky, grass, and a wooden fence. The composition is simple and the colors are light. At first glance, it looks unremarkable. If you look closely, you can see that the house is white with red tiles, the sky is clear and the sky is clear, and the corner of the yard is in the corner. The pure white flowers are blooming just fine.

It is the house that the Jiang family rented in the southern town.

During lunch, Jiang Xuemei mentioned this year's painting competition: "If you want to participate, your mother will ask for leave to accompany you back to the capital... The important thing is to participate. Tossing, it’s the same for us to draw and play at home.”

From Jiang Xuemei's cautious attitude, it is not difficult to see that Jiang Yihui is usually emotionally unstable due to mental illness, and may have even angered his family.

Yi Hui looked sad and said, "I'll think about it."

The whole family has the habit of taking naps. The rain has not stopped outside. Yi Hui is afraid of sitting idle and thinking wildly, so he also goes back to his room to rest.

Maybe he was nervous to deal with the psychiatrist in the morning, plus he didn't sleep well last night, Yi Hui was lying on the bed to relax, and soon fell asleep to the muffled sound of the rain hitting the eaves.

The time is too short, only enough to have a flashback dream.

It was still night, flickering candles, twisted figures, heavy and hurried footsteps, and torn pieces of paper flying all over the sky.

He stepped forward quickly and wanted to reach out to pick it up, but the pieces of paper flew down, passed through his almost transparent palm, and then spun and fell to the ground.

He couldn't catch it, so he squatted down to pick it up, and his fingers inadvertently swept across one of the pieces, which was painted with an eye half-covered by hair.

Those are a pair of eyes that existed in Yi Hui's memory. They are bright, deep, and their pulses are like affection. The most exquisite painters in the world can't describe their one-thousandth of the beauty. Hopelessly sucked in.

Suddenly, the thick eyelashes trembled, and the pupils shrank slightly. saw that the eyes narrowed, and their shape became narrow and long, and there was a chilling light shining through, obscuring the only remaining illusory temperature.

As if being strangled by the neck, the body is suspended in mid-air, and the heart falls as fast as a cliff.

This time he saw clearly that the owner of the eyes was smiling at him, laughing at his overreach, at his stupidity.

After breaking free from the dream, Yi Hui was pulled out of bed, rushed into the studio, locked the door, until the lingering voice disappeared, making sure that no one here would tear up his paintings, no one was laughing at him, the unbalanced heartbeat and The disturbed breathing gradually calmed down.

With his back separated from the wall, he stepped on the floor with his bare feet and walked to the drawing board step by step.

When he picked up the landscape painting, Yi Hui's hand was still shaking uncontrollably. He turned the painting over, and wrote three scribbled words in the lower right corner of the painting paper - help me.

The front is sunny and the back is gray and lonely.

Yi Hui suddenly understood Jiang Yihui a little bit. He didn't have no nostalgia for this world, nor did he have no feelings for this family, but he was too tired, trapped in a puzzle and couldn't find an exit, and would rather die to escape.

There are always people in this world who want to die, and there are people who want to live, but they try their best to get the world's approval, and they can't find a reason to survive.

Yi Hui closed his eyes and touched the sharp edge of the paper with his fingertips, as if heralding an abrupt end to his pale and absurd life.The fingers turned and continued to move slowly, skimming the sharp edges and corners, and sliding over the dried pigment particles on the front of the drawing paper. The fingertips were stained with a faint temperature, as if they were connected to another life.

Even on the first day here, Yi Hui knew that he had no choice, but at this moment, he really convinced himself to live as Jiang Yihui.

The past cannot be traced, not to mention that the fool named Yi Hui had nothing from the beginning to the end.

The author has something to say: the foreshadowing is almost done, and then will tell the story before the soul wears from different perspectives.Attack the next chapter appearance.