During that time, he was sensitive and stubborn.

On the day of the college entrance examination, I insisted on wearing a black vest into the examination room. I said, no, no collar, no sleeves, that's disheveled. He thought about it, but insisted that the black vest was his lucky shirt. He did well in several exams. I said this time is different, it's a formal exam. What if the examination room won't let you in? As soon as his face sank, I stopped taking the exam.

I saw a flash of light in his eyes, sweeping towards me and tending to burn. Dare not say more. At that time, I was humble to the dust.

He walked out the door, his eyes shining.

I put a white T-shirt with sleeves in my bag and followed him out the door.

I looked at his back, hidden in this season. In early summer, the summer heat is surging, and it seems that it will recede at any time.

This road leads to his high school alma mater, and today is his examination room. Ten minutes' journey. He walked for three years, from sixteen to eighteen.

I stayed there for three years. I am far away in Africa. A month ago, he said on the phone, Mom, I won't forgive you if you weren't there when I took the college entrance examination. I put down the phone and started booking air tickets. During that time, the African countries where I lived were in turmoil and the airports were closed. Fortunately, I came back from Africa on the eve of his college entrance examination.

At the entrance of the test center, I stood under a tree and watched him walk through the gate guarded by security guards with his admission ticket. Watch him walk along the path to his examination room. A row of small poplars in front of the teaching building blocked my view. In the wind in early summer, poplars clapped their hands. I still dare not leave. I'm afraid he will be cleared out. I'm waiting for the exam bell to ring. The campus finally quieted down, and an exam that decided the fate of most teenagers officially began. Not only the campus, but also the surrounding roads are quiet. Some things grow in silence.

I was standing under the tree, a little sleepy, as if the jet lag had not reversed.

That day, You Lan was high in the sky. Populus alba grows rapidly, pointing to the blue sky. There are several eyes on the trunk of this long row of poplars on campus. I believe they are here to spy on the growth of teenagers. They saw a lot of things that I couldn't see. He passed them every day, and he was watched by these eyes for three years. In the gaze, he walked into different examination rooms again and again, and the exam was a step forward for him. I know that every step he takes is to stay away. Leaving. It will be further. This is completely different from the meaning of my staying away from him. I left him with a deadline, and he finally left me without a deadline.

The final exam bell rang on another night, which sounded a little cheerful or relieved.

Still under that tree, I watched him coming towards me. He gave me a hug, and the sweat wrapped him and his lucky shirt.

I know it's over. It's not just an exam. I'm not as cheerful as the bell in the examination room. An unknown start stared at me not far away. This gaze scares me a little.

For the next two months, he was very busy and of course in a good mood. Go to driving school to practice driving, get together with classmates, or talk on the phone. Sometimes at night, he stands at the window, looking at the night sky of the city, laughing alone and talking to himself. He is talking to those stars. Although there are no stars in the night sky of the city, he has some in his heart. Teenagers' feelings are suitable for telling stars.

And occasionally go crazy. One night, facing the window of Wenwen's house upstairs, he said in a triumphant tone, "Jia Xiaowen, you can't live without a city from birth to college graduation."

The light in the opposite building was quiet that night, like a girl's name or temperament.

The girl has just received the admission notice from the university. That university is located in this city. I was a classmate from kindergarten to high school and was born in the same hospital.

That night, his tone was arrogant and his eyes were contemptuous. I know, there is an admission notice from an overseas university on the desk in his room. He was allowed to go as far as he liked as he wished. No matter where the distance is, no matter what, as long as it is far enough for him to fly high.

The attraction of unknown distance to teenagers is like the starry sky tempting dreams.

Then we went through red tape, signed various forms, raised tuition fees, and bought him formal clothes as required.

In early autumn, he went to Labuan Island to study a rare major-Islamic finance. This major is as mysterious as a dream.

I helped him pack, but he insisted on not having a new box, saying that the old one could be used. Just use the box my mother brought back from Africa. This box has blessed my mother and will continue to bless me, he said. I looked at him and was not used to his cleverness for a while. The huge exam was over, it no longer tortured him, and he recovered his original temperament.

And insisted that we not send it. Pulling a suitcase, slung a computer bag sideways, holding a small wallet with money and documents in my arms, like holding an uneasy pigeon. Disappeared, across the ocean. Eighteen-year-old body, like the little poplar of his alma mater.

Finally, at the end of my sight, he gathered into a small black spot and floated out.

Me and him, we started to complete our international long-distance communication. We are separated by the ocean, just like two islands. The telephone line is long. At this end and that end, we walk around, we change positions, and what remains unchanged is the ocean between us.

(2)

I always thought he was my brother. This illusion stems from his similarities with my brother and his uncle. It also stems from his living with my mother for three years in high school.

My mother has been telling me on the phone that every morning, she tells him to get up and go to morning self-study. We should keep an eye on him, watch him get dressed and then bury him. Otherwise he twisted his face and fell asleep again. This situation is exactly like your brother's, his mother said. It seems that he went to your brother's school more than twenty years ago.

Mother didn't complain. When she said this, her mind was full of memories. While understanding the busyness of our husband and wife, my mother relived the past time with her grandson.

I imagine getting up every day, eating, going to school, and tangled all night in the morning, and these trivial things flash by in the mirror of time.

This also reminds me often of my younger brother and I when we were young. Actually, I haven't lived with my brother for long. We grew up, studied and worked in different places. As an adult, visiting hours are mostly staggered and will always be missed. My brother was a teenager when he left home to study, and he has always been a teenager in his memory.

In the torrent of time, it is often small things that can be remembered. Later, when we grew up, whenever we recalled the days when we were under the same roof with our younger brother, the first picture that came to mind was that my mother and younger brother stood together and looked at me. Mom's eyes are reproachful, my brother is arrogant, and I am crying. It's just that we had an argument because of something, and my brother got the support and comfort of his mother. I'm not crying because of that, but because of my mother's obvious quirks.

Once, I had a tooth mark on my wrist, which was bitten by my brother. It is blue and purple. I cry at that tooth mark every night, but I don't want it to fade or heal. Because of this tooth mark, my mother can cook at will and take it to my small dining table for a long time.

Just as happiness will not last long, scars will heal easily, and tooth marks will fade away eventually, leaving no trace at last. We have all grown up, and everything in the past has become out of print, and we can never go back. We left home and got married separately. My mother was lonely.

Later, every year I came back from overseas to visit my relatives. My mother was surrounded by a teenager who looked like my brother. He stood next to my mother and looked at me with the eyes of his brother many years ago. I always have the illusion that he is my brother.

In the language communication with him, I am often incoherent. I said, why hasn't my mother come back from shopping? He smirked and said, who is this mother?

Sometimes, we make a scene and quarrel over some trivial matters. Most of me can't beat him. My first thought is to complain to my mother. He didn't show weakness, so he squeezed between my mother and me and stood there waiting for her judgment. Mother looked at me and then at him. I guess, at that time, my mother and I went back to a scene more than twenty years ago. Finally, the three of us had a good time together and sorted out the relationship through laughter. The controversial issue is also in this laughter, I don't know where it is.

Occasionally, I encounter serious problems and want to show my mother's attitude and have dignity, but I am not confident because I have been absent from his life for a long time.

At this time, our communication is often difficult. I need to carefully bypass a rock. I know that if I touch that stone, I will hurt myself and him, and my pain will become more and more intense because of him.

But the stone is there. Finally, in an argument about money and study, I didn't bypass it and ran into it. As soon as a sentence that was too heavy for his age came out, my palm was thrown out.

My eyes went black, and I knew we were on the rocks.

Then I started to have a pain in my wrist. Then my chest hurts. Regret goes deep into the bone marrow

We cried, he cried in that room, and I cried in this room. Mother shuttled between the two rooms at a loss. This is finally different from the scene more than 20 years ago.

Later, we started writing letters, which is our habit of quarreling. We are good at talking on paper. He wrote me a long letter and I answered it. Mother is our messenger. We list one, two and three, explain our actions and blame each other. We wrote heavily, and the manuscript paper was riddled with holes, small eyes and tears.

Let's calm down and think about how to apologize after venting our grievances. He wrote, Mom, don't mind what I said when I was angry. I am young and ignorant, and I will grow up. I wrote that I have never been a good mother, and I also hit people, but this is my first time as a mother. Please allow me to learn to be a good mother. We wrote these words gracefully on paper, and the handwriting was much lighter. With the help of my mother, we walked out of our respective rooms, somewhat embarrassed and somewhat agreed. We sat on either side of our mother and didn't speak. At that time, we really seemed to be the same generation, quarreling and making up, and we will come again in a few days. We are like brothers and sisters, we are two grains of dust thrown from the same land, each forming and growing.

(3)

One night, I dreamed that he lost it.

That's not bad. I suddenly panicked. There seems to be no more details in the dream, just crying at my father and repeatedly saying, "I lost my son." The scene of crying was earth-shattering, not like making a mistake, but more like losing yourself. Then I woke up after a frantic heartbeat.

First, I breathed a long sigh of relief, knowing that I woke up, and I was glad that the adventure just now was just a dream. But I don't know where I am. In the dark, I heard the wind from the air conditioner, touched my side, touched my husband's hand, and paused, then I remembered that we were in Labuan Island.

Labuan Island, his island, I jokingly call it his' island'. A month ago, I said on the phone that we were going to visit you on your island.

The room was cleaned by the three of us at night. He said that a Korean senior went home after graduation and left this room empty. He wants to move to this room with a bathroom, but he has to share the rent in 50 yuan more than the other two roommates every month. He asked us if we agreed. When we said this, we just entered the room and were standing in the living room of this big house. We took an ocean liner for four hours, arrived at Labuan Island from KK, and took a taxi at the dock for half an hour. He put down our luggage, took off his sweaty T-shirt and pointed to his rented room with bare arms, saying that there was a new classmate on the island who wanted to move here after school started.

We quickly agreed. The husband said, let's help you move while we are here. He said on the pretext that he would wait until the holiday was over and his roommate came back. We boys have strength. It didn't take much effort, the husband muttered, patting his strong arm and saying, you are a great worker. We will keep our word. I went to the balcony to find a slightly longer stick, tied a wet rag at one end, and lifted the stick to clean the cobwebs in the corner of the big house. Father and son moved the three-door wardrobe in the small room. He said, be light. It will fall apart if it is heavy. Wardrobe, desk, bed, he found it in the flea market, and it can be used without tossing.

Korean boys hand-painted many flowers on the wall, pink. I asked him, are you in love? He didn't hear you clearly. He shouted, mom, what did you say? I said it again loudly, and my voice echoed in the empty room. He could hear the room clearly, and he said yes, Korean beauty, just like in Korean dramas.

I cleaned the spider web, changed a rag, and cleaned the window glass and guardrail net. The window faces west, just in time to see a large crimson sunset moving on the opposite hillside. The trees in the community are lush, the dusk is silent and the sun is gentle. I stopped and asked him to come and have a look. The big boy who is 1.78 meters stands next to me. I reached out and grabbed him. I caught a glimpse of his throat surging. He stood for a while without saying anything, returned to the small room and continued to move the weak furniture with his father.

The light faded slowly, and darkness surrounded me. I closed the curtains and watched my father and son put the furniture in the right place. He said, let's cook first, it's getting dark, and then clean up after dinner.

What to eat? There is nothing in the refrigerator in the kitchen except smell. I have to buy something. This is China New Year. He and I went downstairs to the supermarket outside the community to buy food, and my husband cleaned up the dishes in the kitchen. I said, if I feel greasy, I have to wash it again and clean the refrigerator.

When we went downstairs, we met some cats in the corridor. Seeing people, we didn't dodge, but strolled leisurely. He said there are fewer people on the island, and there are more wild cats and dogs than people.

The road is as quiet as the middle of the night in domestic cities. At the gate of the supermarket, I also saw the lights and didn't smell the voices. He was carrying a big basket at the door and said excitedly that he hadn't been shopping with his mother for a long time. Mom, can we buy more and have a good meal during the Spring Festival? Then he translated the English label for me cheerfully, and I followed him like a kindergarten child. I can read pictures and Arabic numerals, just as he did more than ten years ago. In the vegetable section, he said that his favorite vegetables are tomatoes and potatoes, just like when he was a child. Mom, do you remember how bad your fried potatoes with tomatoes were? I hit him with a smile. Why can't you fry two dishes that this guy likes? Do you blame me? He picked up celery again and said to himself, this is my mother's best cold salad. Then he gave me a face. I heard a little sarcasm. I remembered that I had a fight with their father and son on vegetables. I insist on never frying what can be cold, and never braising what can be fried. I don't know whether I won the struggle or not. More often, I can't see the result of the struggle. For many years, I have been working far away from my family. I don't know what's on the family table every day. Every day is nothing.

The basket is full. He lowered his head. Mom, I can't buy it. The living expenses will exceed the standard this month. When I got to the snack bar, I picked up a can of potato chips, put them in the basket, stuck out my tongue at me, and exaggeratedly said, eat junk food again, for the last time, mom, please believe me.

We paid the bill, and now we know that the price is twice as high as that in China. He watched my wallet deflate, and suddenly he was depressed and didn't speak. This look is familiar to me. For many years, I have acquiesced in my husband's theory of "raising a son in poverty". Even though I have refuted some harsh practices, I have closed the door and quarreled in a low voice. When he was growing up, he probably vaguely heard our quarrel. One day, the boy suddenly asked me, mom, is our family poor? When he asked this, it was such a melancholy look.

This look has been hurting me. I think I am a very vulgar mother, without his father's vision and sense of hardship. I only see the present, and I don't want my children to have adult melancholy in their eyes.

We walked back, and I broke the silence and said that dad would be worried if we spent too much time shopping.

He also recovered his mood. After all, he is still a child and clouds come and go in a hurry. He said happily that it seems a long time ago that he remembered going to the supermarket with his mother when he was a child and buying new year's goods during the Spring Festival.

This makes us feel depressed again. Recalling the past is always depressing.

In depression, we mentioned the sunset glow at dusk. He said that in fact, the window of his small room can also see a large sunset moving between several buildings. He didn't know that Korean boys could see more sunset glow in front of their windows, and they could see the sunset glow flush on the hillside.

It is said that this country is known as the five major sunset viewing places in the world. No wonder even houses in non-tourist areas and different rooms have sunset clouds from different angles.

In fact, I am afraid to watch the sunset glow, especially in Labuan Island. He suddenly said that the hardest time every day is dusk. When I came back from school, it was as quiet as no one. Wild cats and dogs wandered in the yard or corridor, and the sky was as red as eyes that had just cried.

The big boy has a sad tone like a poet. I walked beside him, feeling his loneliness and sadness. I don't think he is old enough to enjoy peace. He is young and energetic, eager for noise. He belongs to Chaoyang. After generate came out, he was very excited along the way. He doesn't belong to the sunset glow appreciation group.

A year ago, he proudly laughed at a girl named Wenwen under the starry sky. At that time, he felt very noisy in the distance. He thinks that as long as it is far away, it must be different.

At the moment, he is lonely and sad in this distant place, in every sunset. This is completely normal for the course of life. It's just, I don't think I can make it clear to him.

When we went upstairs, some wild cats were still there, maybe not the one we met downstairs. Change always happens quietly at another moment we don't know.

The dinner was very rich, at least for our family. Our family gets together less and leaves more, and our diet is always too lax. This time, I finally fried potatoes and tomatoes separately, and made my specialty, cold celery. The husband made beef and mushrooms. He eats well. He boasts that he has always been a child who is not picky about food. As long as it is made by his parents, it smells good. He ate a hearty meal and there was no air conditioning in the restaurant. In the second half, he had to move to his room and two chairs made a dining table. Fortunately, there are not many dishes. We sat on the locker.

Then clean up the kitchen. I put the vegetables in a bag and put them in his old refrigerator. I told him to eat green leafy vegetables first, and the potatoes could be put away. Don't worry. After cleaning the bedroom, he took out clean sheets from the cupboard and changed the dirty ones, which was very skilled. I said, how can you buy such dark sheets? It's not bright at all. He said that it is resistant to dirt. Then I put dirty sheets and some clothes in the washing machine. I rushed forward, took out my clothes and taught him to wash them separately. He nodded.

That night, we stayed in his room, and he slept in the bed of his roommate next door. That classmate took advantage of the holiday to travel.

I was in this room and dreamed that he was lost.

(4)

He described Labuan Island to me on the phone before.

Sometimes, he said, he was the only student on the huge school bus. At six o'clock in the morning, the sun is already bright, and the bright light shines on the coastline. The school bus walks along the coastline, as if walking along a ray of light. The air conditioner in the school bus was so full that he had to keep a coat. The coconut groves, palm groves, banana groves and abundant tropical plants outside the window were not known until he went to the island. He likes to sit on the side where he can see the sea. He likes the deep blue of the sea. Sometimes you can see wooden boats stranded on the shore and tossed by the waves.

He also said that the bright sunshine and the air conditioner in the school bus often gave him the illusion that the coastal roads were cool and comfortable, so he had the idea of going to the flea market to find a bike to go to school. It was an idea that a senior helped him take classes and keep fit. The senior said that you can ride a bike if you don't mind walking into the classroom sweating all over.

He didn't tell these details until I asked him. For him, I am probably a good questioner. But he didn't tell me about the irresistible sunset here, and I couldn't find any clues about things he never mentioned. He hid the sunset glow and his shallow sadness in Labuan Island.

On another morning, the sun also lit up the sky at six o'clock. The three of us sat in the restaurant and ate udon noodles. He got up a little late. When he sat at the table, breakfast was already ready. He buried himself in noodles and reached under the bowl. Seeing a poached egg, he looked up at me and said, mom made breakfast. He knows that I am used to putting poached eggs at the bottom of the bowl, as if hiding a secret.

While eating, he called Mr. Zhao and said, Mr. Zhao, I want to take my parents to the dock with your car, and they will come to see me on the island. Mr. Zhao, an overseas Chinese on the island, has his own car and often serves international students in China. Of course, Mr. Zhao charges a fee, and the fee is very high.

Then he called the landlord again, this time in English, to discuss the rent and so on.

Pack up the dishes and chopsticks. We spread all the foreign currency and RMB on that dining table. We will leave Labuan Island by ocean liner today, and then leave the country by night flight and return to where we came from. We left enough travel expenses and left the rest to him. He kept asking, are you enough? Are you enough? We always say, enough, enough. He divided this pile of money into several small stacks, chanting, this is the rent, that is the water and electricity living expenses, looking at the RMB, he said, wait until the exchange rate is higher. His father advised him to eat more vegetables and fruits and keep healthy. He took out a few bills from the stack of living expenses and promised, uh-huh, well, this is the fitness fee.

I looked at him, the boy, his face was slightly tanned by tropical sunshine, and his lips were surrounded by furry beards, soft and rich, like plants growing on the surface in spring. In a foreign country, he deals with trifles other than study and life. Actually, it's part of my study. Life is like this.

Mr. Zhao's car is here. He took the luggage and we went downstairs.

He sat in the passenger seat, chatting with Mr. Zhao and introducing our relationship. Mr. Zhao was slightly surprised, and then said politely in blunt Chinese, like your sister.

He didn't speak, touching the hairy beard around his lips. I am also familiar with this action. When very young children call uncle, they always subconsciously touch those ridges with tender grass. I can't guess what kind of mood he is, secretly pleased or flustered since childhood.

We circled the island as a farewell ceremony to Labuan Island.

The coastline is sometimes straight, and sometimes it has beautiful curves. Straight or curved is the shape of an island. This is a sculpture of an island by the sea.

At the dock, we said goodbye to Labuan and him.

I didn't look back when the ship set sail. I'll wait for the ship to leave Labin completely and then look back. Only when you leave an island can you see it clearly.

By then, he may have left the dock and returned to the depths of the quiet sea island.

When dusk comes, he will still feel lonely and sad in the sunset glow.

Actually, there's nothing wrong with that. He is no longer a child who is proud of the stars.

But he, my child, still doesn't understand that at this age, we are all wandering dirt, meeting at a certain point, becoming attached, doomed to separation and loneliness. We stand on both sides of the ocean, on both sides of time and space. We are each other's islands.

After a long time, there will be a piece of soil, which originated from him and left him, drifting outside and growing alone in a place until it grows into an island and has its own scenery.