Chapter 184 (Festival)

"Listen to me, kid, this is just an accident. Cheer up, you still have to prepare for the next exam."

The teacher sighed at Cao Annuo's expressionless face.

Comfort had no effect, psychological counseling was also useless, and the psychiatrist said he was powerless.

The other students were not familiar with him at all and could not talk to him at all.

"Maybe the environment here makes you uncomfortable. You can rest. I will give you a holiday. You can go to a distant tourist destination during the holiday and have fun."

The teacher handed over the leave note and ticket in his hand.

Cao Annuo's eyes slowly moved to the things, stared at them for a while, and then reached out to take them, as if there was no soul in this body.

The teacher couldn't help but sigh again when he saw him like this.

"Come back when you are better. You can leave now."

The teacher looked at him and said.

I thought the process of sending this thing out must be very difficult. The other party might say that he was not in the mood or had other things to do, but Cao Annuo said nothing.

He still had an expressionless face and stood in front of me without moving. When he heard that you could leave, he turned around without hesitation, without any doubt, as if he did everything the same.

He had lost his yearning and hope for life.

All the joys in front of him seemed to be just illusory fantasies, soap bubbles that burst with a poke, and snowflakes flying in the air that would eventually fall.

And he himself was like an insignificant raindrop in a storm, appearing only to be smashed to pieces on the ground, mixed with sewage and flowing into the sewer, emitting a foul smell, and then disappearing. He

was in a hurry to come and to leave, following the wind, with no purpose and no end, as if he would never be home, never be able to do anything, and always be freezing cold.

It made no difference where he died.

He didn't want to do anything, but since the teacher had arranged for him, he went. It didn't matter, because it was the same everywhere.

He arrived at the tourist resort.

It was spring-like here all year round, with bright sunshine and blooming flowers.

People were wearing light, colorful clothes, standing or sitting, with gentle smiles on their faces, as if there would be no pain here.

He looked at them and suddenly felt a little jealous.

So the pain that he had suppressed with great difficulty slowly came up again, like the stomach acid burning the esophagus when vomiting, like the inevitable swollen throat and lumps all over the body when suffering from hair allergies, itchy and painful.

He felt like he couldn't breathe.

The sunlight fell on his face, maybe it was too bright, his eyes went dark for a moment.

There were waves of tingling all over his body, as if countless needles were piercing his heart again and again. He couldn't touch those needles, but those needles would not disappear.

He found a chair and sat down. It was a public chair and no one was sitting on it, so he sat here. Above his head were the branches of a tree with dense leaves. He

sat here, sitting in the shadow under the sunlight. The sunlight was in front of him and under his feet, but not in his hands. He felt vaguely a little cold, but there was no reason for this coldness.

He buttoned his shirt, and his fingers accidentally touched his skin, and he shivered. He didn't have this problem when Green was still alive by his side.

But after Green died, he often behaved like this.

The doctor said that he just had low blood sugar and insufficient blood supply to his limbs. He needed to rest for a while, get over these days, and then exercise like before and he would be fine.

The teacher said that he had seen such a situation before, and that was also a student who lost a teammate.

Because of their good relationship, they became teammates. Because of their good relationship, after one of them died, the surviving one could not accept it, and it became like this. He would be fine after a while.

They all said so.

However, the days that felt like years were not easy at all.

He did not shed tears during the day, because as soon as he closed his eyes, he would think of the situation that day, Green was covered in blood, lying in his arms, and then he closed his eyes. He

had to keep him alive before he died.

What was the point of living like this?

He began to suffer from insomnia and could not sleep all night. He would take sleeping pills, but the effect gradually became weaker. Perhaps he developed tolerance to the drugs, so he would drink alcohol to make it easier to fall asleep.

After falling asleep, he would always have dreams. He would always see Green in his dreams, but sometimes Green wanted to say something to him, but he could not hear it at all. Then there was the alarm clock and he was woken up.

He had to get up because it was late. He didn't know how those hours passed, but he could touch his eyes that were swollen and red because of tears.

He would cry when he closed his eyes at night.

The tears came from when he was ready to rest to when he entered the dream and then left the dream. It was like this every night.

He also looked in the mirror.

The person in the mirror had a pale face, dull eyes, dark eyeballs, and no spirit. His lips were bloodless, and his eyes were full of red bloodshot and extremely swollen. He

had no expression on his face, like a dead body with its eyes open.

When he laughed, he looked like a fierce ghost who was about to kill someone.

He seemed to have suddenly forgotten how to laugh, because when he used his facial muscles, Green's face would flash before his eyes. He could vaguely see Green laughing in front of him, or in the mirror.

He knew it must be fake, but he still couldn't help reaching out. He wanted to touch Green's face, even if it was fake.

But he couldn't touch it, because it must be fake.

He just remembered again and again at this time that Green grabbed his collar with his blood-stained, still warm, but somewhat cold hand.

His fingers were cold, the back of his hands were purple, and touching the skin would make people shiver. He had little strength, his arms were shaking, and his wrists were very fragile and thin, like a branch that would break if touched lightly.

The sound was very small and weak, and he could only hear it by putting his ear close to it. He was not worried that Green would bite off his ear, but his heart was beating violently, and he felt that his heart rate was too fast.

He was black in front of his eyes, and he could hardly hear what Green said to him, but he clearly remembered what Green said at the time.

So even if he couldn't hear anything in his ears, he would repeat those conversations in his mind.

At first he just thought of Green's face, as if he was afraid that he would forget it.

Later he began to review the incident. In his imagination he killed the two murderers again and again, cutting them into pieces, crushing their bodies into pieces, and turning their bones into ashes.

He knew it was fake, but he would not wake up because of it. If it was a dream, he also knew clearly that Green would not come back, but in the dream, Green would stand by his side, sometimes just looking at him.

Sometimes he would smile at him, but he would not speak when he smiled, like a shadow without a voice.

Sometimes his clothes were clean, like they had just met.

Sometimes he was covered in blood, like he was dead.

Sometimes he looked burnt, pitch black, and his original appearance could not be seen.

Sometimes it looked like it was rotting, with its eyeballs falling out of its sockets, and the flesh on its face rotting away bit by bit. The whole person exuded a rotten stench, but he still wanted to go up and hold the person in his arms.

Because the person in front of him was standing, at least he could deceive himself and say that this person was alive.

Even though he knew in his heart that he couldn't survive in that state.

A little girl came over with a bamboo basket astride her.

The little girl was wearing a red dress with a huge bow around her waist. Her hair was simply tied into a ponytail. Her skin was bouncy and her face was white and rosy. She was a very healthy person.

The basket contained a bunch of blooming flowers, which were gorgeous and tempting.

"Sir, do you want to buy a bouquet of flowers?"

the little girl asked.

Cao Annuo shook his head.

"Sir, don't you have anyone you want to send flowers to? Flowers are not only given to lovers, but also to parents, friends, teachers, or strangers. Are you really not going to buy a bouquet?"

The little girl tried to sell.

Cao Annuo closed his eyes and picked a bouquet of red roses.

The little girl took the money and left.

Cao Annuo looked at the flowers in his hand, pulled the corners of his mouth, and showed an expression like a sneer on his face. He wanted to crush the flower, but suddenly changed his mind and just pulled out the thorns little by little.

The thorns pricked his hand, and his fingers bled, but he felt itchy and painful, as if if he wanted to relieve such pain, he could only tear the flesh.

He looked at his hands and the bouquet of flowers in his hands. His hands were bleeding, which made him feel a little better, because it reminded him of the strong smell of blood when Green was bleeding but not dead.

Warm blood, cold fingers, and thick darkness when he closed his eyes. He ignored other people around him, as if Green was right beside him.

It was really something to be happy about.

He was interrupted by a burst of shrill instrumental music.

He opened his eyes and looked towards the source of the sound.

People were singing and dancing, carrying flowers and wearing beautiful clothes, walking all the way. They were celebrating the festival.

They walked past Cao Annuo.

Cao Annuo had a standard mask-like fake smile on his face.

The owner of the small stall selling rice cakes next to him said to him enthusiastically: "It's fun, right? Everyone who comes here to play wants to see it."

Cao Annuo smiled.

His communicator rang.

The teacher was looking for him.

"Have you arrived?"

the teacher asked.

"Yes."

Cao Annuo replied.

"You also bought flowers. Who do you want to give them to?"

The teacher thought he had met his sweetheart there and was happy that he could get out of the shadow of his teammate's death.

"For my friend."

Cao Annuo said with a smile.

His smile suddenly became sincere. He turned his head to look at the empty space next to him, handed the flowers in his hand out, and asked softly: "Do you like it?"

"Who are you talking to?"

The teacher was stunned.

"My friend, isn't Green here?"

Cao Annuo said as if he was holding someone's hand next to him.

"If you don't like it, throw it away. Do you like it? I'll keep it for you for now."

Cao Annuo said seriously to the empty space next to him.

The band seemed to be very long and had not yet finished. They were singing and dancing, beating gongs and drums, laughing and celebrating enthusiastically.

"Are you crazy?"

The teacher looked at him and asked.