2023成都QT品茶海选经纪人专业安排喝茶生活

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“爸，您该吃药了。”我轻轻的拧开灯，试探着问，以为父亲睡着了。

“嗯。”他眯着眼瞅见是我便又安心的合上了。

我自知他需要休息便带门而出，出门前他说：“我想喝茶。”声音很小，我还是听见了。我便跑到卧室，打开抽屉，混杂着茶叶清幽的气息顿时扑鼻而来。我小心翼翼地打开茶包，放一小撮在杯子里，随着滚烫的开水不断涌入茶杯，褐色的茶叶飞速旋转，浮至水面。

很快，热腾腾地茶被我端出房外，却终究抵制不住严冬的寒气冒着白气，消逝在空气中。我小心翼翼地打开父亲的房门，能听到父亲因感冒而不舒畅的呼吸声。我打开灯，父亲便被惊扰了，我看着他那双深沉的双眼示意让他坐起来喝热茶。显然，虚弱的他有些吃力，头上冒出细细地的汗。

他接过茶，让我坐在床边，我冻得瑟瑟发抖，他却严厉的诘问道：“怎么穿这么少？冻感冒了怎么办！”我笑了笑，怕发烧的父亲生了气病情又加重，便起身去加衣服。

外面很冷，整个大地银装素裹，粉妆玉砌。天快黑了，只听见雪花飘落的声音，还有依稀看清邻居家屋顶冒出的烟。一向健壮的父亲却生了病，大年三十，我感到一丝落寞与荒凉。

进门时，我不忘给父亲端来一碗热粥，他有一天没吃饭了，他倚着床边看着我手中的粥沉默了片刻，接过粥慢慢的吃着，好像在品味什么。这时的茶叶已落至杯底，被父亲喝了一半的.茶似乎还冒着一丝热气。

不知是热粥的白气弥漫了父亲的双眼，还是病的痛苦侵蚀了父亲的身体，我看见父亲长满皱纹的眼角分明有雾在喧嚣。他揉了揉双眼把荡然无存的粥碗递到我手中，碗底分明有他残留的余温。

他端起茶，吹散了那仅存的一丝热气，颦蹙着双眉抿了一小口缓缓的咽下。我抬头望着他，在这夜阑人静的夜晚，我第一次在灯光下看清了父亲的白发，好像一夜之间就变多了，我想数都数不清。他的双鬓发白，岁月无情地在他的脸上刻下了一道道沟壑，那能托起儿时的我的背也没有那么挺拔了，一阵酸楚涌上鼻子，泪水喷涌而出。我掩盖着要走，父亲说晚上多盖点，别感冒了，我点点头关上门。门的那边还有清幽的茶香和淡淡的烟草味，我努力地嗅了嗅，停留了许久。

父亲的爱宛如一杯热茶，喝下去虽有苦涩的味道，但在舌尖上留下的清香才是我所贪婪依恋的味道。

Dad, you should take your medicine now. “I gently turned on the light and asked tentatively, thinking that my father was asleep.

Hmm. “He narrowed his eyes and saw that it was me, so he closed it with peace of mind.

I knew he needed to rest and walked out with the door. Before leaving, he said, “I want to have tea.” The voice was very low, but I still heard it. I ran to the bedroom, opened the drawer, and the faint scent of tea immediately came to my nostrils. I carefully opened the tea bag and placed a small pinch in the cup. As the boiling water continued to pour into the cup, the brown tea quickly spun and floated to the surface.

Soon, the hot and steaming tea was taken out of the room by me, but in the end, I couldn’t resist the cold of winter, emitting white air and disappearing into the air. I cautiously opened my father’s door and could hear his uncomfortable breathing due to a cold. I turned on the light and my father was startled. I looked at his deep eyes and signaled to him to sit up and drink hot tea. Obviously, he was weak and struggling, with thin sweats emanating from his head.

He took the tea and asked me to sit by the bed. I was shivering with cold, but he sternly asked, “Why are you wearing so little? What if you catch a cold!” I smiled, afraid that my feverish father might get angry and worsen, so I got up and went to add clothes.

It’s very cold outside, and the whole land is covered in silver and adorned with powder and jade. It was getting dark, and all I could hear was the sound of snowflakes falling, and I could vaguely see the smoke coming out of the neighbor’s roof. My always strong father fell ill, and on New Year’s Eve, I felt a hint of desolation and desolation.

When I came in, I didn’t forget to bring my father a bowl of hot Congee. He didn’t eat one day. He leaned against the bed and looked at the Congee in my hand. He was silent for a moment. He took Congee and ate it slowly, as if he was tasting something. At this point, the tea leaves had already fallen to the bottom of the cup and had been half consumed by my father. The tea seemed to still be emitting a hint of heat.

I don’t know whether the white air of hot Congee filled my father’s eyes or the pain of illness eroded his body. I saw my father’s wrinkled eyes clearly with fog in the noise. He rubbed his eyes and handed the empty porridge bowl to me. At the bottom of the bowl was clearly his residual temperature.

He picked up the tea, blew away the last trace of heat, frowned and pursed a small sip, slowly swallowing it. I looked up at him, and on this quiet night, for the first time under the light, I could see my father’s white hair clearly. It seemed like it had grown more overnight, and I couldn’t even count it. His temples turned white, and time mercilessly carved grooves on his face. Even my back, which could hold me up as a child, was not as straight anymore. A burst of soreness surged up his nose, and tears welled up. I had to leave under cover, but my father said to cover up more at night and not catch a cold. I nodded and closed the door. On the other side of the door, there was a faint aroma of tea and tobacco. I tried my best to sniff it and stayed for a long time.

My father’s love is like a cup of hot tea. Although it has a bitter taste after drinking, the fragrance left on the tip of my tongue is the taste of my greedy attachment.