It has been raining from last night to today, as if even the sky was brewing sadness for the death of a prosperous and beautiful man many years ago.

When I walked out of the cafe where I worked, I saw Leslie Cheung’s songs playing one by one on the large LCD screen of the KTV opposite, from "The Moon Represents My Heart" to "Monica", from " "The Wind Keeps Blowing" to "I" seems to be "responding to the call" to remember this Hong Kong artist who once moved and made many people sad.

Although my favorite song "Star" is not broadcast, every time I think of the lyrics "When you see the bright stars, you will think of me", I will feel melancholy. And, believe it or not, warmth, because I actually think of him.

I know he will never hear it again, nor will he feel it. After all, there are so many years and such a long distance between us, but I know it is enough.

I stood there, stupidly listening to a few songs, and then walked downstairs. I thought sadness would slowly flood my heart, but strangely, I didn’t feel much.

Maybe it’s because I am no longer overly presumptuous at a young age, maybe because my heart is really no longer as cautious as before, maybe I like this man from beginning to end, not as deeply as many people, although I have also been moved by many of his screen appearances.

Sometimes, I even have a suspicion. I don’t even remember the memorial day of my grandmother who loved me so much. I may not even be able to go home during the Qingming Festival to light a few sticks of incense for my deceased relatives. Years have passed, and I have long since let go. I no longer have tears in my eyes due to regret or sadness, but I am overly concerned about the memorial day of a favorite artist. Isn't it a bit ironic?

Maybe it’s because you can’t remember it yourself, others will help you remember it, and the media will help you remember it, but I can’t help but feel the strong “feelings” of this annual “ritual” Something that feels empty.

I am willing to spend my whole life remembering a person, and I do not deny that I will spend my whole day forgetting him, but as long as one day I think of him, he will always be so endless. Looking back, I think this is the greatest compliment I can give him.

This is just my humble opinion. From the bottom of my heart, I still like this man. It’s the flirtatious look in his eyes in “Farewell My Concubine”, the tenderness and hatred of “a smile that lasts forever, a cry that lasts forever”, and the wandering look back in his “Rouge Button”. Looking back isn’t enough, and the corners of his mouth drift for a while. The unparalleled smile of the young master is the lost figure when he lingered in Buenos Aires in "Happy Together". After wandering alone, he suddenly realized that he would go back and have no affectionate dancing partner, except for the desolation of the flood of pale memories. Even more so, in "Across the World", he shows his unrestrained and unrestrained figure riding on a motorcycle along the Seine River in Paris. For a long time, I felt that the playboy in Yi Shu's novel "Unruly Wind" must be played by Leslie Cheung.

But I like a person. Of course, I don’t need to face that person day and night and deal with daily necessities. I am more willing to remember his bright and bright parts, because I don’t have to care about whether his soul is incomplete and his life is rough. The ending is tragic. To put it bluntly, it is really something that is separated from me by millions of mountains. Instead of deliberately exaggerating it, I prefer to maintain a feeling of friendship between gentlemen as light as water.

Of course I am not criticizing or ridiculing, because there are different levels of love, and maybe some people are really too affectionate, so they deserve to be understood. Who is to say that they are truly unique, unique and unique? beauty.

He is gone. After all these years, I still miss him, just like I miss a bright and moving profile face I saw on the subway in a certain year and month, just like the dark mountains. The bright and graceful Emei moon hanging quietly in the sky was just like the clear and joyful moment when I first saw the twin petals of mandarin duck jasmine, one purple and one white.

I won’t be sad, and I won’t shed tears. I can still watch one of his old movies, such as "Ashes of Time", "A Chinese Ghost Story", or "Days of Wild". , he is still young, melancholy, lonely, but handsome, he is still young in front of me, how wonderful.

After many people leave us, they gradually turn into a desolate background in our memories. As the years go by, they can only gradually become lighter and become a natural existence. I don't think it's necessary to go through all the trouble of pretending to be insincere. Even Zhang himself must not want to see such a scene.

Just like when I walked through the brilliant dusk in Harbin, through the quiet Mengdong in Nanluogu Lane, and through the gorgeous lights of Haihe River, I regard the scenery along the way as the most beautiful and graceful strokes in my life. I missed them, I will eventually miss them, but every time I think about them, they are still beautiful, still so lonely and emotional.

In the evening, the sky suddenly cleared up, and all of a sudden, everyone in the circle of friends began to show off the clear blue sky in turn, like a collective carnival, and I was not exempt from it. A friend, an activist of romanticism, said with emotion, I want to look at the sky like this until the night becomes darker inch by inch. I suddenly thought of the sentence in Faulkner's novel that once moved me: "Listen to the sound of night falling inch by inch."

I have not seen such a blue sky for a long time. That kind of blue is pure, refined, and understated. It is the kind of blue that reminds people of the animations directed by Hayao Miyazaki. It is poetic, light, not too vast and profound, but it is heartfelt. Inwardly happy.

But compared to the envy-inducing blue sky, I prefer the picture of the brilliant sunset outside the window, shining on the old house covered with withered vines.

You see, although it is old, although it has experienced vicissitudes, and although it is difficult, the sunshine is still willing to care about me. I am not as optimistic and cheerful as you think, but I will never pretend to be sad.

Just like when I read San Mao’s works, I was repeatedly moved by her true temperament, my heart was shaken by the poetic and wonderful life she wrote, and I was fascinated by her vivid and interesting love story with Jose. It was like a tree about to bloom. Naturally, I knew that she eventually lost her youthful, regretless and eternal lover. Naturally, I knew that she ended her life in an extreme way.

I accept it, just like I accept the spring coming east, the slight summer heat after the summer solstice, and the dawn at the end of the day. I am not very sad or disappointed. I know that she has lived and lived well. She was more wonderful than anyone else. She once loved her so much that many people yearned for her. She was so beautiful that she was so beautiful that people were fascinated by her.

When I saw the photo of her sitting naturally and comfortably in the desert, I felt a kind of admiration that hit the core. Sometimes, beauty is a kind of thing that makes people speechless for a moment, as if being touched by a kind of... Something that freezes the original curse.

You will temporarily forget any words, forget the disturbances and changes in the world that were still lingering in your mind not long ago. At this moment, you are like a newly bathed virgin, with shocking purity and beauty flowing in your eyes. Gorgeous.

Just like every time I see the photo of Leslie Cheung attending the Cannes Film Festival wearing a black suit, with slightly dark skin, and Toshiro Aeolus, I find it pleasing to the eye and too beautiful to behold, and that’s enough.

I suddenly remembered that vulgar saying: "The sun always comes after the wind and rain." That is such a superficial, yet so appropriate truth.

I thought to myself, it was Leslie Cheung showing the most beautiful smile to me, just like the shy smile he showed when he took a photo with Duan Xiaolou, or the smile he showed to the painter by the bridge. That touch of showing off his grace is like the most touching touch of his in my memory.