Chapter 60: Recognition (6)
Moros admitted that he was a bad guy, a complete and utter bad guy.
Moros no longer expected to be in the court after his death... He just wanted to live a good life in the present.
His present life was to be with Angelica. Without Angelica, his present life was miserable. To resolve this misery, he had to steal again, and continue stealing until he got Angelica!
Since the world is hell, then there are always some people who must endure pain and torture. Don't spare my life, good or bad, it's not my fault...
He had already formed a whole set of logic to comfort himself, enlighten himself, and convince himself to continue doing bad things. Therefore, he felt at ease and had no scruples...
…the water suddenly boiled!
Looking at the kettle that was constantly emitting steam, Moros somehow felt that his previous bandit logic was a bit untenable in front of Grandma Beishan.
He saw with his own eyes how sad his grandmother was for losing her son. Her old face was covered with tears, and her sorrowful eyes were like a knife cutting her heart...
Suddenly, it was as if countless, sorrowful eyes appeared in my mind...
Those eyes, dark as a bottomless black hole, without luster, without emotion, just staring at him, staring at him...
He felt the anger, sadness, and hatred of these black holes...
"Could it be that the master is teaching me a lesson?" When Moros thought of this, his usually strong and indifferent heart tightened unconsciously!
He quickly shook his head, trying to clear himself from the wild thoughts.
He opened the cupboard, found a fine porcelain bowl, rinsed it with boiling water, poured some boiling water, and placed it in front of the bedside table in the bedroom.
"Grandpa, grandma is too sad and can't bear it for a while. Drink some warm water and she will be fine in a while." Moros comforted his grandfather beside him.
“…”
The grandfather who had been crying just now looked at him as if he was a stranger after hearing what Moros said.
"Who are you?" he asked vigilantly.
Grandpa's eyes are very similar to my father's—both have thin, single eyelids. His eyebrows are very thick, like bags under his eyes, lying horizontally above his eyes...
His forehead is not high, but his cheekbones are relatively high, a typical northern face shape. His skin is yellow with a hint of black.
"How did you get to our house?" He looked confused and his IQ was like a child's.
"Grandpa, I am your grandson, Moros? Have you forgotten that it was you who opened the door for me just now?" Moros asked.
"What? I opened the door for you? Impossible!" Grandpa said firmly.
Not long ago, the old man didn't remember what happened just now! Moros looked at his grandfather in confusion:
His beard seemed to have not been shaved for a while, and it was of different lengths and looked messy...
The wrinkles on the neck are like tree bark, drooping down, layer upon layer.
"Grandpa, I am your grandson. My name is Moros. My father is your son, Liu Guang. Do you still remember your son?" Moros reminded him.
Seeing the old man like this, Moros wondered if this grandfather had amnesia?
Otherwise, how could he forget what just happened?
"Oh. You are my grandson. My son is your father." The old man murmured.
He has a high nose, just like his father.
The mouth is very big and the teeth are a little yellow...
When people get old, especially when poor people get old, they may become like him:
He doesn't care about his appearance, lives a sloppy life, and just muddles through. He doesn't look good, Moros thought.
In Russia, Moros had seen many such impoverished elderly people. Most of them would lean against their front doors to bask in the sun. They often looked dull, their eyes dull, their speech incoherent, and lacking in confidence. In particular, they all had a distinctly old-fashioned air about them...
What exactly is the smell of old age?
Moros didn't know.
The only explanation is that because those elderly people often do not take a bath or change their clothes, over time, a foul smell naturally emanates from their bodies.
However, these two Chinese grandparents, though living a simple life, were neatly dressed and had no particular smell. This, Moros thought, must have had a lot to do with the grandmother's diligence.
At this moment, the fainted grandma woke up...
She lay on the bed, opened her eyes, and whispered to the grandfather and grandson:
"Help me up quickly and lean me against the head of the bed..."
Moros hurried over, found a pillow to lean against the bed rail, and then helped grandma sit up and lean against the pillow.
The pale grandmother still looked very weak, but she was still concerned about the unfinished business, namely Moros' parents.
"Good boy, my good grandson...my poor grandson!" Grandma grabbed Moros's hand and started crying again.
There was relief, sadness, and caring love in this cry, which made Moros' heart surge and filled with emotion.
He discovered that he was actually a person with rich emotions!
He is surprisingly emotional when he is with his grandparents!
"Grandma, don't cry. Don't cry, it'll make you sick." Moros' voice choked with sobs. From the grandmother's cries, he felt the love of a mother for her son—his father...
"Look, my poor grandson. How is your mother? Did she remarry after your father died?" asked grandma.
It was perfectly normal for a young woman to remarry after her husband's death. So my grandmother just casually asked...
"Grandma, that's not the case." Moros.
"My mother loves me and my father very much." Moros said, and couldn't help crying on his grandmother's knees.
Mother Katyusha's beautiful face, gentle big eyes, and rosy mouth often appeared in Moros's dreams. Every time, he dreamed of his mother hugging him tightly and kissing him... But his beautiful and kind mother left him very early and reunited with his father in the church...
"What about her? Why doesn't she come with you?" asked grandma.
"She's dead too..." Moros said with difficulty.
"After Dad passed away, Mom cried all the time. She was so sad that she fell seriously ill." Moros.
"And so, my mother passed away less than a year after my father... I was only four years old at the time." At this point, Moros's tears kept flowing and his voice was choked. He could no longer control his emotions!
Over the years, he had never felt so sad when thinking about his parents who passed away early.
Perhaps it was because of seeing my relatives that the pain buried deep in my heart naturally flowed out...
"My poor son, my good grandson!" Grandma cried again. As she cried, she called out to her son and grandson...
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