I Am the Mother of a Prodigy

I don’t know who contributed the video to the big V, and it rushed to the hot search the next day after it was released.

The video is very clear, and the small ward is full of loud readings. An Zimo is the youngest, with a straight spine, and the writing is not crooked like a child of this age, but very neat and beautiful.

He is very photogenic. In the lens, An Zimo has black hair and white complexion. He is sitting cross-legged, like a noble young master on TV.

Netizens were ashamed and praised one after another.

—I was still playing in the mud when I was three years old.

-Is this kid really a genius? Logical thinking is inferior.

-Fuck! Does the younger brother accept sibling love? The age difference is twenty years older.

-Ahhhhh, isn't this the brother I picked up that day?

The last comment attracted the attention of the majority of netizens. After clicking on her Weibo, she found a close-up photo of An Zimo that day she lost. The boy in the photo looked embarrassed, but still exquisite and beautiful, exactly the same as in the video. Then, they followed the information to the Anxiang homepage.

An Xiang’s comics were temporarily suspended due to An Zimo’s injury, and there were a lot less forwarding comments. Unexpectedly, as soon as this happened, the comics directly followed the video and rushed to the top five popular comics. There are at least 10,000 articles under each comic. Forward and comment.

She never dreamed that she could be so hot.

An Zimo was preparing to leave the hospital, not paying attention to the news, but there were a lot of people around the ward, as well as a few reporters who heard the sound.

He couldn't stand the sight of strangers and directly locked the door.

Qiuyang sat on the bed next door and looked at him sullenly, "Brother Zimo, are you going to be discharged from the hospital?"

Qiuyang's condition worsened and he was wearing a nasal feeding tube. His condition was not very good, but he still wanted to chat with Zimo on the day he was discharged from the hospital.

"We may leave in the afternoon." An wanted to comfort him, "When I pack my things, I will take Momo for an inspection."

Hearing the examination, Qiuyang smiled: "After the examination is done, if problems are found, they can be treated sooner."

An Zimo zippered his schoolbag and set it aside. When the nurse came and called for someone, he left for a full-body examination. The physical examination was very time consuming. Several hours have passed since the set was released. Fortunately, there was no problem. An Xiang's heart that had been hanging was also relieved when he saw the list.

Pei Yizhou's car has been parked outside the hospital, and An Zimo will bid farewell to Qiuyang.

He didn't mean to talk to him at all, and he was about to leave with his bag on his back. Ann wanted to stop him and pushed him forward.

"I'm leaving." An Zimo was forced to come to Qiuyang's bed and bid farewell arrogantly and coldly.

Qiuyang had been used to his appearance a long time ago and didn't care at all. He took out a small notebook from the drawer and handed it to him: "Here."

"What's this?"

"Give you your discharge gift."

An Zimo raised his eyebrows, and when he was about to take a look, he heard Qiu Yang say: "You will look again when you go back."

He put it away, turned and left.

"Brother Zimo!"

An Zimo turned his head.

Qiuyang pursed his lips, with emotions he couldn't understand in his eyes. After a while, he slowly said: "If you are free, remember, remember to come and see me."

An Zimo did not accept or refuse, and left the hospital without looking back.

There was no pungent smell of disinfectant outside the hospital. The sky was clear and blue, and the clouds bloomed freely on the blue background like white oil. He darted forward, hurriedly stepping, bent over and sat directly in the rear driver's seat.

"Don't you look at Qiuyang's gift?" An wanted to know that his son couldn't wait, but knew that he was embarrassed, so he took the initiative to stretch him a step.

An Zimo raised his eyebrows, pretending to read the little notebook indifferently.

Each page of the notebook is the name of the child and the hand-painted works. The paintings are all by An Zimo, the notes are immature, and the things written are different.

[Thank you Zimo Xiaolaoshi. —Wang Pengpeng stay]

[Although I like you very much, don't bing anymore. -Permission to stay. ]

[Remember to visit us. -Liu Jinjinliu. ]

[Teacher Zimo, I want to jiehun with you when I grow up. -Mimi Liu. ]

An Zimo wrinkled his nose and snapped his notebook shut.

Those things had long been seen by An Xiang, she suppressed and smiled, "Mo Mo, there is a kid who wants to marry you."

An Zimomu had a pretty little face, "I'm not getting married."

"why?"

"trouble."

Ann wanted to tilt her head and continued to tease her son, "Don't you even get married when you meet a beautiful girl? Of course I have no problem with a boy."

An Zimo's face changed and changed, and he roared back furiously: "I'm still in my infancy, can you not tell me about these adult things? Do you understand what a child's health is?"

Ann wanted to roar dumbfounded.

This, this is unhealthy? ? ?

She saw that her son was upset, so she touched her nose and didn't speak any more.

After returning home, An Zimo put the notebook on the desk at any time, after thinking about it, moved it to the small drawer of the coffin, and turned it over carefully when she went to bed at night.

The coffin is small and can give him the greatest sense of security.

An Zimo has never received a gift in his previous life. He has no friends or family. Abuse is the suffering that life gives him. This little book is the second gift since his life. The first one is the transforming toy that An wants to give. broken.

The notebooks are naive, and the paintings are also naive.

He held his cheek with one hand and looked through it idly. He couldn't help but think of the scene in his mind when he was in the hospital arguing for being called a teacher. Thinking about it carefully, it feels pretty good.

Knock knock knock.

An Zimo hurriedly hid the book in the drawer again and cleared his throat: "Go in."

"Drink milk." Ann wanted to pass the cup over.

He was about to drink and found that the milk was not in the right color, "Why is it red?"

Ann thought and did not hide: "The doctor said that you lack nutrients, so I squeezed some blood in. Mom's blood, it's okay."

The understatement made An Zimo take a breath. It doesn't matter what mother's blood is?

"I don't drink."

"No." An Xiang had a strong attitude, grabbed the cup and poured it into him. Seeing An Zimo finish drinking honestly, he nodded contentedly, "Come on, I'll take a look at my teeth."

An Zimo, who was forcibly instilled with human blood, barked his teeth at her very uncomfortably, and looked very much like a newly-born tiger, fierce or fierce, but not lethal.

The two teeth have been re-pointed, white, tender and lovely.

An Xiang smoothly touched it, and exhorted: "You can't use a scorpion grinder anymore, do you hear it?"

An Zimo curled his lips impatiently: "I know."

"Will you continue to go to the hospital to teach Qiuyang to them tomorrow night?"

An Zimo didn't speak at first.

"Anyway, your kindergarten is also very free after school, and it's close to the hospital. It's okay to go and see it." An Xiang had already figured out his son's character and made up his mind directly for him.

If An Zimo didn't refute, it was accepting. So the next day, he continued to teach the children in the hospital amidst the cheers. Qiuyang didn't come, so he transferred to the ward to prepare for the subsequent surgery.

After An Zimo finished the course, he was dragged by An Xiangqiang to see Qiuyang.

To be honest, Qiuyang's situation is not optimistic. He is young, and chemotherapy can no longer effectively curb the spread of cancer cells. After only two days, he has lost a lot of weight. Seeing An Zimo came to see him, his depressed eyes lit up.

"Brother Zimo, you are here."

An Zimo walked to his bed, An Xiang did not disturb, and left the ward to leave space for the two children.

The moonlight spread outside the window.

Qiuyang couldn't get up, because of the nasogastric tube, there was a little dullness in his breathing.

"Uncle doctor said that I will have an operation at four tomorrow afternoon."

"Ok."

"When I succeed in the operation, I can be discharged from the hospital to play with you. Then we will go to the football field to play football." He yearned for the outside world, his eyes full of longing.

An Zimo is not as hypocritical and liar as an adult, his expressionless face, his tone coldly pierced Qiu Yang's unrealistic fantasy, "You have cancer, 80% of it won't get better."

Sure enough, these words dimmed the joy in Qiu Yang's expression.

An Zimo has no feelings and has no guilt. He just tells Qiu Yang the facts, which is not a harm.

"I know." He said suddenly, his tone low and sad.

An Zimo frowned slightly.

"But my grandparents and the uncle doctors in the hospital believe me and cheer me up." Qiu Yang said a lot in one breath, smiling brightly, "So I also have to believe in myself."

"It's useless to believe."

Qiuyang didn't blame An Zimo for his indifference, he took his hand strenuously.

An Zimo didn't like contact with people, and when he was about to refuse to touch, he saw Qiuyang skinny, no matter the back of the hand or the wrist, it was all bruised needles. There is no vitality in this skin, and the only thing left is the dry flat after being tortured by the disease.

An Zimo couldn't help pursing his lips, raising long eyelashes.

Qiuyang was suffering, but there was no complaint in his heart, and the sunshine was incredibly cheerful.

"How about we make a bet."

"What to bet."

Qiuyang smiled: "If I succeed in the operation tomorrow, then I won, you call my brother."

Kind of funny.

An Zimo sneered: "Did you lose?"

Qiu Yang thought for a while: "Then I am your brother." Calling a three-year-old kid his brother was Qiu Yang's biggest concession.

"good."

"Then let's pull the hook." Qiuyang stretched out her little finger with a sense of ritual.

"Naive..." An Zimo murmured, but still sent her finger to hook.

It was time for the visit, An Zimo jumped out of the chair and walked out of the ward. When he left, he couldn't help but glance back. In the dimly lit ward, Qiu Yang, who was lying on the hospital bed, waved and smiled at him, until the door closed, and that smile was blocked in it.

An Zimo kept thinking about this bet after returning home, absent-mindedly whether it was going to school or eating.

Finally, he insisted until the end of school, and he took An Xiang and couldn't wait to rush to the hospital.

Today's hospital seemed extremely empty for some reason. An Xiang went down the corridor to the Qiuyang ward and found that the bed was empty, and the nurse was changing a new sheet.

She found it strange, more of a bad premonition.

"Miss Nurse, I'm sorry to ask." An wanted to walk in, "Where is this little boy named Qiuyang?"

"I died of hepatic encephalopathy last night."

The nurse didn't look up, as if talking about eating and drinking water as usual.

It’s not surprising that people die every day in the hospital, regardless of their age.

Ann wanted to take a few steps back and couldn't help but look behind him.

He stood at the door and had not moved half a step, with no joy or sorrow in his eyes, staring straight at the empty bed without speaking or blinking.

An Zimo became very silent when he returned.

He sat in the coffin staring at the notebook in a daze.

The first page of the notebook is Qiu Yang's notes.

[Wait when I'm done, go find Brother Zimo to play. ]

Below is a picture of two little boys holding hands, laughing and playing football in the sun.

An Zimo held the notebook tightly until An wanted to come over and sit next to him.

"Mo Mo, Qiuyang's grandma invited us to the funeral. Would you like to go?"

An Zimo's eyelashes trembled, raised his head, and said flatly: "He lost."

An Xiang's expression suffocated, her heart gushing with unspeakable soreness, she couldn't comfort her, and she bent over and hugged her son tightly in her arms.

***

Qiuyang was only six years old and four months old when he died, and the treatment fee was not yet available. Grandma Qiuyang used the money to organize a decent funeral for the child. The old man thought that the child was young and didn't make a big deal. Apart from An Xiang, he only invited a few acquaintances.

Qiuyang has been ill for three years. His parents can't afford the expensive medical expenses, and they have long since left. The two old people pulled him up with one hand, even if the child was sick no matter how badly he was, it was their thoughts. Now the thoughts are gone, they are crying to death in front of the tomb.

The sky is overcast and the air is stuffy.

The people next to him were crying, but An Zimo couldn't cry, silently looking at the picture of Qiuyang on the tombstone.

He still remembered the bet and the smile that hadn't died out yet.

Is life worth crying?

An Zimo didn't know, but thought the photo on the tombstone was eye-catching.

The guests all presented flowers, and An Xiang also presented one, with a small handwritten card in the flower.

[You are the autumn sun on earth; there is no winter frost. ]

He died in the brightest sunshine, after which the wind and snow could no longer wreak havoc on his soul.

"Momo, we are leaving."

An wanted to tighten An Zimo's hand and left the cemetery with one foot and one shallow.

He stopped and looked back, Qiuyang was smiling on the tombstone, staring at him away, with the same smile as that night.

He narrowed his gaze and didn't look back.