Words outside the cup

A week has passed. The girl sat firmly on the high chair at the counter, looking at the painting closest to the door.

"Today's special offer."

"Thank you." The girl turned around and took a sip. "It's astringent!"

"It's neither bitter nor sour." The boss smiled wickedly.

"It's not good either!"

The boss still smiled faintly, "Well, it's not good."

"I don't understand why they love coffee."

"I don't know either."

"Then you still open a cafe!" The girl pouted, "Forget it, you have to say it's your wife's relationship."

"Yeah." The boss nodded lightly.

"Didn't you ask him?"

"Asked."

"Then what did he say?" The girl held her face.

"You'll know after drinking it for a long time," the boss said firmly.

"How on earth did you win the award?" The girl's brows came together.

"Well," the boss raised his brows together, "I'm familiar with the referee."

"Do you think I will believe it?" The girl glared at the boss.

"Yes." The boss looked firm, "The referee is my class teacher."

"I don't want to talk to you anymore." The girl turned her head directly.

The boss scratched his head, "Do you still want to hear the story of that painting?"

"You made it up?" The girl turned her head.

"It's not made up..." The boss started grinding the beans again.

Pop, pop.

Ask in a very soft voice, "Why do you think the city is painted like this?"

"Yeah." The girl turned to the painting together. "It's an abstract painting."

"Take the face, period, or character of the city, and mix it like this as an angle."

The boss laughed outright.

"Why, just say if you guess wrong." The girl squinted at the boss.

"I guessed right." The boss explained with a smile, "My wife said the same at the beginning."

"and after?"

"He lied to me." The boss kept his hands, but looked at the painting.

"why?"

"He finds me annoying."

"I understand." The girl nodded. Feet sway naturally. "How did you find out?"

The boss saw that the girl's coffee had been reduced by a third.

"He told me."

"Why do you want to draw together the three types of buildings, baroque, wooden house and brick house?"

"Because there are three periods of this town," the girl stopped her brush, "like three aspects of this town."

"It feels like an abstract painting."

"Well, it's a bit." The boy nodded, "Then why is it so clear-cut?"

"It would be nice to mix a little with each other, wouldn't it?"

"Did someone tell you not to argue when you look at other people's drawings?" The girl glared at him sideways.

"Have."

"Then can you stop arguing?"

The boy stood beside the girl all afternoon. Until the girl made up for the sun hanging diagonally over the town.

"Then is this the setting sun or the first sun?"

The girl glared at him.

"I'm just curious," the boy explained quickly to himself.

"Isn't it rude to ask the author directly what he draws in his work?" The girl said with a stern face.

The boy touches his nose. "I just wanted to confirm my interpretation."

The girl raised her face, "Then what do you think?"

"I guess it's both." The boy's eyes lit up, "Look, although there are obvious white spaces between the three styles of buildings, the red light projected by the sunlight can be vaguely seen."

"So the one left blank should be a river. That is to say, this is a town at the mouth of the river."

"So?" The girl was noncommittal.

"So he should be that town. So the sun might be a metaphor for the fight between the three groups." The boy pointed his index finger.

"It may also be the fusion after the fight. Because you drew the three buildings into a circle." Then he extended his middle finger, a gesture of Er.

"You're so stupid, why don't you become an editor?"

"Shouldn't it be possible to write novels?" The boy's eyes widened, shocked.

"You're better than a writer." The girl began to pack up her drawing equipment. "And it's annoying."

"Then you should be the boss." The boy pointed his index finger.

The girl glared at him again before asking lightly, "Then what do you want him to be?"

"Let's set the sun." The boy replied solemnly, but a little melancholy. "It's good to be remembered."

The girl stood up, "That name was given to you."

"Huh?" The boy was startled.

"Don't forget it." The girl snorted softly.

"want."

"How could he tell you this?" The girl was puzzled.

"He doesn't want me to keep bothering him." The boss touched his nose.

"I understand." The girl nodded heavily.

The boss smiled lightly.

"So you took that name?" The girl pointed to the nameplate under the painting.

The nameplate is engraved with four seal characters.

"Yes." The boss looked at the remaining one-third of the coffee, "It's not good if it's cold."

"It doesn't taste good when it's hot."

"It's harder to drink when it's cold."

The girl tilted her neck and drank.

"What word?"

"Isn't it taught at school?"

"Why teach? That's not our word."

The boss smiled bitterly, "That's right."

"The setting sun reflects the river."

"You really don't have the talent for names." The girl was firm. "This name has no suspense in the future."

"My wife said the same thing."

"It's you who kept him from hanging in the Louvre."

"Hang it in and you won't be able to see it."

The girl turned her head and glared at the boss before returning to the painting. "He deserves better stories."

"And that's how the story should be," the girl said softly, imagining to herself.

After you meet your wife, look at the pictures he draws and the way he paints. Wanting to get his attention, I asked him, "Can you tell me the story of this town?"

He woke up from his immersion in painting and looked at you, "You scared me."

"sorry."

"What story do you think he has?" he asks you. Just like every author wants to know what readers think of his work.

"Yeah." You scratched your head, "The three incompatible buildings are three cultures and three ethnic groups that came here one after another. Although they are very different from each other, they still love this land."

You compare the few smears of red in the blank space, "They are nourished by the same land, and gradually conflict and emotions develop. In the river of time, blood ties are blended."

"Finally make each other the only group." You put your hand on the edge of the painting, and the perspective is on the circle formed by the whole. "But there are still differences between them."

Then look at him, "Like what we used to do."

Then he laughed. Smiling softly and brightly. But no answer what you said is right or wrong.

"I forgive you."

You were a little stunned, and then you said, "Then can I still watch your painting?"

"Look at your performance."

"Wait," the boss woke the dreaming girl, "could you respect the original work?"

"What's the matter with this young pink bubble girl dream?" The boss's movements could no longer continue.

The boss compared his face, "Am I this kind of person?"

"No." The girl immediately denied. Say with a very positive look, "That's why your story is so ugly."

The boss was speechless.

"Forget it. You'll be fine."

"You are so good at editing, you should go to the editing team."

"Why not the novel group." The girl glared fiercely.

"It's also very suitable."

"Hmph, I'm going to class." The girl left with agile steps.

Only the "ding bells" rang in the hall.

"Is it okay to be called Xie Ying?"

"Okay." The girl agreed simply.

"You don't ask why."

"You haven't broken enough yet?"

"Uh..." The boy was at a loss for words.

"Next time."

"next time?"

"Don't you?"

"want."

"Don't bother me anymore."

"it is good."

 If you told a story with a cup of coffee, how many cups would you be willing to drink?