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Shell hunter

1

  Because she is cute, with big eyes, and the baby blue eyes that have not faded, because she is really cute, with a naive little mouth, and always childish, so her classmates nicknamed her Moomin.
  That’s right, the blue-eyed hippo Moomin from the cartoon.
  She also has a group of cute and amazing family like the hippopotamus in the cartoon. Her father opened a hotel by the sea in Zhoushan, and the business was bleak, but it has been open for more than 20 years. Her mother is one of the few fine porcelain restorers in the country, maybe the world, who can restore those priceless but broken things to the point where no cracks can be seen at all. Her brother is a wandering poet and a botanist. He discovered two plants on earth that are unknown to humans, and often sent the exotic flowers and plants he encountered on the road to Moomin.
  Moomin’s father’s hotel is very old, an old house, some bricks and tiles can be dated back to the Qing Dynasty or earlier. This hotel is really like the Moomin’s house in the cartoon. It’s old and warm. It takes in wanderers from far away, entertains them for breakfast and dinner, and gives them clean beds. If they want to leave, they won’t stay , quietly send them away. Moomin grew up in this hotel.
  Moomin is always carefree, the classmates said, “I can see that you have no worries by looking at your eyes, but you don’t seem to be too smart.” They joked with her because she was so cute It’s very rare for a small animal to be so stupid and innocent. They stared into her eyes: “Oh, oh, it’s as bright as two dark brown crystal beads, with light blue eye whites, so weak and helpless.” Then they moved their hands to pinch her round face. Moomin is always regarded as a little sister and a baby by classmates.
  But Moomin also has Moomin’s sorrow, but this sorrow is too small to be understood by outsiders. But this sadness is very stubborn, growing in a crease of the frontal lobe of the Moomin brain, it has always been there, it has been there since it happened, and it has never disappeared for any reason.
  
2

  At that time, Moomin was about thirteen years old and had just entered junior high school. The island town where she grew up is not too far from junior high school, and it takes 20 minutes to ride a bicycle. So every day at noon, Moomin goes home to eat, and doesn’t need to bring a box.
  One afternoon in autumn, Moomin had lunch and went back to school. There was no one on the way from home to school that day, especially at noon, the sky on the island became higher, the air was no longer humid, and her mood was empty, like a big balloon . She parked the car in the carport outside the school gate, turned around, and suddenly saw a boy in a red sportswear. He stood at the iron gate and looked at her. In that scene, there was no one around, and the cicadas that were about to disappear, there was a sound. The autumn wind blows down some bougainvillea flowers, which float down in front of her. He seemed to be waiting for her to come, and helped her hold the iron gate, but for some reason the Moomin didn’t move forward quickly. Maybe only three or five seconds, he let go, the iron gate closed, and he entered the campus.
  At that time, there were no such fabrics as sun protection shirts and windproof clothes. People’s clothes seemed to be made of cotton or chemical fiber, but his red sportswear was made of light and fluffy material, like a parachute, windproof. His clothes swelled up with the direction of the wind, and the outer sides of the two sleeves, from the shoulder to the cuffs, each had a white trim. His clothes were so conspicuous that he was noticed for his good looks: curly hair, slender eyes, short stature, and a particularly handsome canine tooth.
  That day was the moment when Moomin bid farewell to his childhood and became a girl. The difference between a child and a girl may be that a girl will hold a person in her heart, a person of the opposite sex and a different surname. Because I put on this person, my heart became heavy, and I was no longer that frizzy and happy child.
  But the funny thing is, she doesn’t even know his name. But he should be very similar to Moomin, and he is also a very innocent boy. One afternoon, a hailstorm suddenly fell, and many people gathered at the door of the teaching building to watch the hailstorm during recess. The hailstones became bigger and bigger, almost as big as ping-pong balls. A person ran out, and in a second, he picked up one and came back. It was the boy, he was still wearing red clothes.
  Moomin didn’t know where the courage came from, she also rushed out and picked up a hailstone and came back.
  Spread out the palm of your hand, the hailstone is slowly melting. It turns out that the hailstone is not a simple ice ball, but a sphere composed of circles of ice layers of different styles, just like the annual rings of a big tree or the rings on a dart board.
  I didn’t even know his name, and I never thought about asking about it, let alone having the courage to confess to him. Such a small period of sadness is particularly stubbornly absorbed and collected by memory.
  
3

  In the year when Moomin graduated from University, some people said, what a pity you left the big city, you can obviously develop well here. But Moomin went home anyway, back to the lovely and magical hotel, with his parents. This is her ideal, isn’t it possible? Who said ideals have to be big and big? People who get a doctorate, study abroad, have a bright future, earn a lot of money, transfer money to their parents during the holidays, but never come back, can’t understand Moomin who goes to an ordinary university like this, and can’t wait to go back after finishing. To the people of the small town where he was born.
  The Moomins were back, and her dad could retire. Now Moomin manages the hotel and becomes the owner of the hotel. On this day, someone booked a room for a week from the Internet. He is a shell collector, or he can be called a “shell hunter”.
  Because it was the off-season, the room Moomin arranged for him was the best one facing the sea. A few days later, the guest came. He was carrying a very simple backpack with very little luggage. Moomin was surprised when he saw him, because he looked so much like the boy she remembered, even the curls of his hair, his canine teeth and his expression when he was silent. But he is not, he speaks Mandarin and is taller than that boy back then.
  Moomin’s hometown is a small town near the East China Sea. There are shells, but there are not many precious snails. Flower deer snails, first snow snails, and jade girl snails are scattered in the hands of fishermen along the coast of the East China Sea. Five years ago, it was said that someone caught the huge Dragon Palace Wengrong snail by the way while fishing.
  Shell hunter, how would you describe such a profession? It’s like a detective, knowing that the person he is looking for is in this small town, but he doesn’t know who it is, and he doesn’t know where there are clues. Finding the fisherman is easy, but finding the fisherman with the treasure snail, and then buying it from him Baoluo is not a simple matter.
  He goes out early every day, from one pier to another, strikes up a conversation with the proprietress of a grocery store by the sea one after another, passes one cigarette after another to the hawker in the fish market, and chats and drinks with the owner of the fishing village tavern until late at night, only Hope to find clues about even one treasure snail.

  For days, he found nothing.
  One evening, he was sitting alone on a bench in the yard, without using his mobile phone, nor was he drowsy. He just sat there in silence, looking far away. He really looks like the boy in my memory when he grows up and then gets old. Moomin felt a little pain in his heart, and that kind of distress came from the first experience in his life from ignorance to nostalgia.
  She walked over and sat beside him.
  She asked: “Can I see your collection? For example, the photos you took or something.”
  He raised his spirits and said, “Okay.” He turned on the phone, and there were pictures of Baoluo one by one. collection, show it to Moomin.
  Cloud Hunting Cap Conch, a relic of diver Peter Clarkson, who was buried in the belly of a great white shark on February 17, 2011.
  No-spot rosy and graceful snails are only produced in the deep water area of ​​more than 50 meters at the southern tip of Western Australia. Only the most skilled divers can dive to such a depth in the local harsh currents for collection.
  Kevalanfu snails were salvaged by French trawlers ten years ago and live in 200-400 meters deep water in New Caledonia, where trawling has long been banned to protect the ecology, and they can no longer be collected.
  Futoni snail, collected at a depth of 200 meters off the coast of Mozambique, it was originally in the stomach of a fish.
  …
  The treasure snail, with bright and clean enamel, is covered with various strange patterns. It was originally a small house with a weak and weak owner. When it was salvaged, the original owner died, and the empty shell was collected by humans. Priceless.
  ”When you collect them, you kill them,” said Moomin.
  ”Yeah, you’re right, collecting is always cruel. But if you don’t collect them, they will be silent in the depths of the sea forever, and their beauty will also be annihilated. Compared with ‘pity’, ‘cruel’ may not be What kind of.”
  Moomin took him to the market on his motorbike, where some bosses might have conchs in stock. An old lady in a grocery store mysteriously took out a bunch of rags, which she said were her treasures, but the rags were just a few conch shells from the first snow, and the live shells had lost their luster because they had been soaked in water .
  ”Don’t be discouraged. Treasure hunting is not something that can be found several times a day or two.” Moomin said.
  ”Thank you for comforting me,” he said.
  He told Moomin that once he went to sea trawling with a fishing boat, the sea was very cold at night and the wind was very strong, and if he said a word on the boat, the sea wind could tear the voice crazy, and the splashed sea water would rush into his mouth. Finally the net was collected, except for the fish, there were only a few poor little shells. It was really sad at that time. But when he gets home, removes everything from the dining table, spreads out a map of the world, and puts a snail on it one by one according to its origin, he will feel too touched, such as the one on the map. Near Australia, a small island is full of rare treasures, which can even be piled up in Antarctica.
4

  For him, Moomin has not changed. It is still the girl he met at the gate of the campus when he was young, with innocent eyes, round face, and the expression of a child when he speaks.
  He was the boy in the red tracksuit in Moomin’s memory. He grew up, he grew old, and like Moomin, there are certain emotions that cannot be forgotten because of the intensity, turbulence and beauty of the first occurrence. In order to make her pay more attention to him, he played football hard on the playground, his red sportswear swelled in the wind, he flew like a red jellyfish in the ocean; on hail days, he went to pick up the roundest and largest hailstone, But he didn’t have the courage to walk up to her and give it to her…
  She has always been in the quietest and warmest corner of his heart, just like a beautiful precious conch, he gave her the warmest waters, the safest light, the most abundant… Nutrition. She is in his heart, in his dream.
  Nice to see her. It’s nice just to meet like this, not to be recognized by her, not to disturb her life. It’s time for him to go back, just like the Moomin in the cartoon has a scarecrow friend, Jin. Every time Ajin leaves, it seems that he will never come back, because he loves traveling so much and wants to know the world so much.
  Before leaving, he said to Moomin: “I was like an invisible person before. Because I was shy, my whole body became transparent and I couldn’t be seen. When I came to your house, I met you and chatted with you. My invisible shoes were revealed. Out came out, and then the buttons were revealed, and then my shirt and hat, and I didn’t seem to be withdrawn and timid, and I wasn’t ashamed, Moomin, thank you.”
  
5

  Maybe there is also a small wrinkle in your life, a piece of sadness hidden in the frontal lobe of the brain that will never be flattened, like a dream, like a poem, like a piece of haiku.
  Toyotomi Hideyoshi once wrote: “Born with the dew, gone with the dew, the past is like looking for a dream in a dream.” A sad and unforgettable dream, when you are melancholy, the person in the dream is also looking at you melancholy. You are like a precious, beautiful shell hidden in the deep sea. He doesn’t want to salvage, and he doesn’t want to disturb, he just wants you to exist gently in the ocean current of that memory forever.
  This kind of sorrow has nothing to do with life or death, and it is not vigorous or ecstatic, but it can survive from the time it happens until the day you die.
  Faint memory, slight nostalgia, that unknown person in life appears at a certain moment, and then disappears; like dewdrops, his own appearance and disappearance are beautiful and precious enough, therefore, as long as Being able to bid farewell carefully is like looking for a dream in a dream.

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