"Dad, I've told you 10,000 times. It's useless. These things are so numerous now that people are already numb and no one cares about them..."
"Fuck, I don't believe that there is really no kingly law in this world..."
My son was impatient: "Dad, do you want us to tie a gasoline bottle like Tang Fuzhen and burn yourself to death? Tell you, if you don't die, the media will not pay attention to it. Even if you die, others may not pay attention to it.
Save it, I don’t want to die of self-harm... Besides, what’s the best thing to live here? I wake up by listening to the sound of cars in the morning, and sleep by listening to the sound of cars in the evening. I quit. If this continues, if I don’t get the money, I will die first.
It's... "
"Old man, I said, don't be too arrogant, your arms can't force your thighs. You forgot the lesson that night? You are tired of living, where is your son? What should I do if my son is still young and killed? If you don't move, we move...
”
...
Yan Xixi listened to the fierce quarrel between the family and the family, and walked over quietly. In the attic, her mother seemed to finally breathe a sigh of relief when she saw her coming back.
All the debris had been packed and placed in a few large cardboard boxes, and the wind blew in from the worn-out glass windows.
The mother and daughter looked at this familiar place and looked around. The tall buildings on all sides surrounded this small island and were centered. The real estate developers planned to build a high-end hotel apartment. Every day they delayed, the real estate developers lost.
One day, so if Lao Zhang doesn't move away, the "Flying Tigers" will definitely make a tough move.
The ringtone of the phone text message rang, she took it out and looked at it, and her mother asked inadvertently: "Who sent the text message?"
"I sent it from Huang Xiaojue. I wish us a happy Christmas. Haha, if he doesn't say it, I can't remember that today is Christmas."
"Huang Xiaojue sends you text messages every day?"
"That's right, basically one is sent every day."
Yan's mother thought: "How is Huang Xiaojue doing in Beijing?"
"It is said that the job is pretty good, and I have been promoted to a department manager."
"Xiaoxi, you are not young anymore. Huang Xiaojue is actually very good and has a future. If it weren't for me to drag you down..."
"Mom, Huang Xiaojue and I are just ordinary friends."
The conversation ended here. I carefully carried the largest cardboard boxes, and my mother only held a small glove box. This was all for them, because they often moved, except for daily necessities, rarely accumulate unnecessary things.
When the taxi passed by the city center, Yan Xiaoxi saw the overwhelming billboards. The bustling pedestrians surrounded the huge square with chocolates, flowers, Santa Claus, brightly dressed couples, fashionable girls holding roses, related
The dream of love... and the text message sent by Huang Xiaojue again: Xiaoxi, I miss you so much, I will come back to spend the Spring Festival with you.
The Spring Festival is too far away.
Just like this cold winter, she couldn't stand it for one more day.
She deleted the text message and had no reply.
...
My mother asked: "Xiaoxi, the new house you are looking for is not too expensive, right? It is better to find a cheaper one, we have to make long-term plans..."
She smiled bitterly, how could she have too long-term plans? Just like Huang Xiaojue's text messages, she couldn't eat or wear, and could not even turn into a cup of steaming milk tea on these cold days...
Young men, what can they do for us? Love, romance, sweet words? After that? Or do you still look at the world with hunger, empty hands and full of depression?