But for the Qing, never lovesick + extra

Looking forward to the weekend, when we go again, our wishes will come true, and we will be pleasantly surprised.

Father's spirit recovered a little, and when he saw us entering the door, he stood up holding the guardrail, straightened his tall and thin body, and walked a few steps.

He opened his arms to us, with a smile on his pale face, and insisted on hugging me and my brother in turn.

"My daughter has grown up and can support the family." I remember he sighed in my ear at that time, his hoarse voice scratched my eardrums, and I wanted to cry but forced myself to swallow it.

What he said to Zheng Fan, I didn't know at that time.

……

A week later, the situation is not good.

He was lying on the bed, heard the sound, slowly opened his eyelids, his eyes were bright but his breath was weak.

A damn hope-shattering word came to my mind: back to the light, I turned around, trying to escape in disbelief.

Dad stopped me. When he called me, his voice seemed to be muddy, low and obscure.

It was my younger brother who stopped me and took my hand.

As I approached him, I watched him inch by inch, my father.

His hands were hanging on the edge of the bed, his face was similar to when he was just hospitalized, only a pair of eyes staring at us were slightly angry.

Father called mother to speak by the bed.

The words were like frustrating words... I gritted my teeth and ignored them.

Mother agreed, and turned to the side to get busy, giving us a seat.

Father called us by nicknames: "Yang'er, Fan'er."

The voice is hoarse and full of tenderness.

The last time like a passing moment.

Father looked at us, lips quivering, eyes darkening.

I felt something, and I knelt down shoulder to shoulder with my brother.

Father turned away, his pupils constricted, his face tensed, and the hand that held us just now slowly lost his strength...

He survived to the end, with all willpower.

My mother fainted on the spot, and my brother and I knelt down to bid farewell to my father...

Chapter 31 Fan ① Zheng Yang Monologue

The author has something to say: In fact, this article is not exactly divided into chapters from the previous article, because I didn’t write it yesterday, and I was eager to return to bubbling, so that’s it...

I have a feeling that the more I write, the more detailed it is, as if No.1 rewrote the text...!

I know what you want to see is the next chapter, the main characters are all finale, ha~

Before going to college, my brother and I only regarded our father as a serious injury and died of illness.

The mother didn't mention the specific reason, so it's not hard to guess that the father did it for his work and his anti-drug business.

My father died in the line of duty, and several elders called uncles and uncles whom I met in the police station came to the house several times after my father was buried.

I or my younger brother bumped into it twice.

They came to visit and sent a box of things along the way, but my mother refused to accept it.

The mother's refusal lasted for half a month. I heard from my younger brother that he came home one day and saw the familiar big cardboard box on the coffee table, the master bedroom door was closed, and his mother was not there.

He waited for me to come back, and the two of us turned over privately, and tears filled our eyes.

Inside the box are the old things from my father’s office, the scarves and gloves my mother knitted for him, the colored paper wishing stars I made a glass bottle of, the oil paint family portraits that my younger brother drew when he was a child, and the pens he is used to, and the big thick cowhide with frayed edges Ben... At the bottom of the box is a black wallet. Open it, and there is a family photo in the most conspicuous place.

My father hugged me with one arm and my mother with the other, and my mother held my younger brother in her arms. The whole family looked at the camera with bright eyes.

Things are different...

The truth that is printed on the lips, it is only through the painful experience that we cannot bear the consequences that we can understand the profound connotation.

After that, no one of my father’s colleagues came to my house, and because my mother refused, there was no sign related to my father’s police status.

His gun and police ID were all returned.The mother was determined not to accept the honor or the pension in exchange for the father's life.He even locked his past medals and certificates in a box and put them on the shelf.

Father, he has lived in memories since then, silently on old photos, and vividly in my dreams.

After that, my mother, my brother and I gradually went back to work or school as usual, we hid our longing and pain from each other, and savored the passage of time lightly in the busyness and complexity or in the leisurely daze.

Just like many times before, waiting for those who have gone away to return home and reunite.

Maybe my mother, younger brother, and I all believed in our hearts that my father just went to a faraway place and couldn't come home because of his work...

Such lies are piled up layer upon layer in my heart, and the embankment is strengthened, lest my heart will flood... It's okay on weekdays, after all, I spend less time with my father, but I can't escape the sigh of missing my family during the festive season.

During my three years in high school, my mother changed the most, her hair was profuse, her face was full of joy but she couldn't hide her sadness.

Once when I was cleaning the house, I helped my mother change the bed and quilt cover, and found a single photo of my father under her pillow.

Wearing a straight police uniform, he is tall and straight, with a smile in his eyes.

I have seen that photo before, it was on the bedside cabinet in my mother's bedroom, and it was properly stored in a gold frame.

Now, the photo frame has been removed, the plastic edge has been sealed, and the position has been moved from the touchable bedside table to the mother's side...

With the edge banding, it is impossible to prevent the corners from rolling up, and the curling is out of shape...

Imagine my mother holding this old photo every night and missing my father sadly, tears overflowing uncontrollably.

The plastic sheet was slapped twice, I wiped the photo with my sleeve carelessly, put it back under the pillow, slipped to the kitchen, wiped my face, and continued to remove and wash the quilt cover.

……

I swallowed this matter and didn't say anything to Zheng Fan.

This is the journey that the mother insists on alone, and others, even the children, can't help much.

From my mother's tolerance, forbearance and infinite persistence, I saw the shining love.

I am grateful for my father in my heart, and at the same time feel sorry for my mother... She and her father have been married for 20 years.

My heart attack was so painful and depressing, I secretly made a decision: inherit my father's behest and stay with my mother for the rest of my life.

I didn't tell anyone what was in my heart until the end of the college entrance examination, when I got my grades, and when I filled out my application form...

At the end of the month, my mother was busy with work. Especially after my father passed away, in addition to controlling my siblings, my mother put more energy into her work.

I went to an Internet cafe to apply for a volunteer. It happened to be a weekend, and my brother Zheng Fan was also with me.

I made up my mind and directly chose the police academy in this city during the application period. The first major was anti-narcotics, and the second was criminal investigation.

Zheng Fan sat next to me and watched me operate the mouse without saying a word, but put his hand on my shoulder when I chose to save.

That's what encouragement means.

I was so sore and sore in front of my eyes that I didn't dare to look back at him. I waited silently until the application period passed. Looking at the rankings of the same volunteer, my heart sank, and I pulled him up and left.

On that day, my mother deliberately applied not to work overtime, and went home on time. The first sentence she entered the door asked me to fill in the report.

I said it straight.

During the financial boom in those years, my mother suggested that I choose a related major.I expected that my mother would object, but I underestimated her resistance to the relevant words...In a rage, my mother moved her hand to me for the first time, raised the bag she hadn't put down and threw it on my head.

The sun xué on the right was throbbed by the metal pendant on the zipper of the bag, and my heartbeat followed. I knelt down on the ground, looked directly at my mother, and stubbornly resisted silently.

She was so angry that the corners of her lips turned white, and she didn't say anything, even without changing her coat, she went straight into the bedroom and locked the door behind her.

Our mother and daughter are alienated from the Cold War, this is the first time...

Before the start of school, my mother secretly checked my luggage preparations, put the necessities I had neglected on the desk to remind me, but she still didn’t speak to me, and even rarely responded to my brother.

School started in a blink of an eye, I got up early, and cooked a meal for my mother and brother with a half-baked craft that I had practiced for a few days-rolling noodles.

I thought my mother didn't want to see me, so I put two bowls of noodles on the table, and when my younger brother went to call for my mother, I went out with my suitcase.

While I was waiting on the platform, my brother ran out.

He accompanied me to wait for the car, during which he only said a few words.

A quote from my mother: Mom forbids you to make your own decisions.

Another sentence is, Mom cried.

I looked in the direction of the car, facing the wind and crying back.

My younger brother watched me get into the car. After the car started, the new phone in my coat pocket vibrated twice.

I took it out to read, it was sent by my brother, it was a very long paragraph.

I leaned out of the car window and looked back, but I couldn't see him or the stop sign, and I could still imagine his stubbornness standing in the wind and holding his mobile phone.

I read carefully what he didn't express, and turned it over and over several times.

From his comforting and caring words, I saw that he has grown into a stable boy.

Before getting off the car, I replied with a few short words, asking him to take good care of his mother and himself, and finish his studies steadily.

This counts as leaving home.

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