Parallel sentences, famous quotes, plus a sentimental passage about family affection,
A standard template for achieving a perfect score in an exam.
She had even already decided which three famous lines from "The Relief of Worries" she would quote.
She glanced at Lin Que:
Writing ghost stories might grab attention,
However, this type of essay assignment, which requires cultural background and delicate emotions,
Do you think someone with your unorthodox methods could understand this?
Now, let's see how you come up with this topic!
A smug, confident smile crept across Zhang Ya's lips.
I picked up my pen and began to conceive ideas almost as if they were flowing from a spring.
From the podium, Shen Qingqiu took in the reactions of all the students.
She saw Zhang Ya's confidence, saw the confusion of most of the students, and finally, her gaze returned to Lin Que.
He remained in that position, motionless, like a statue.
Shen Qingqiu felt a sense of relief for no apparent reason.
This topic was chosen after careful consideration.
It is orthodox enough, warm enough, and restrictive enough.
No matter how imaginative Lin Que's talent may be, he must write within this framework, using the most sincere emotions.
She didn't believe that a person's heart could be completely filled with darkness.
Lin Que was indeed in a daze.
His thoughts had already drifted far away.
"A letter..."
He murmured those words, and what appeared before his eyes...
She was neither a kind grandmother nor a noble hero.
Rather, it was in my past life, in that tiny rented room.
Under the dim light, my parents' temples were graying.
He's a screenwriter, someone who's been working his way up in the industry.
A screenwriter who thinks he has seen through the coldness of human relationships and is complacent after making a little money.
He was used to reporting good news and not bad news.
I'm used to saying "everything is fine" on the phone.
They've gotten used to using expensive gifts to make up for the lack of time spent together.
He always felt that there was still plenty of time and the future was far away.
He didn't even have a proper meal with them or a chance to say "I love you all".
He didn't even know if his father's old leg pain would return in winter.
He didn't even remember his mother calling to tell him to take care of himself.
Did he hang up hastily because he was rushing to meet a deadline?
Those details he overlooked, those times he squandered,
After his death, it became a branding iron, burning him day and night.
He thought these regrets would be buried forever in another time and space.
But unexpectedly,
Today, I was unexpectedly brought up by this essay topic.
It turns out that he was the one who most wanted to write the letter.
Lin Que slowly closed his eyes, and when he opened them again,
The usual languor and playfulness in his eyes had vanished without a trace.
Instead, there is a settled, deep-sea-like calm and sorrow.
He understood Shen Qingqiu's intention.
She wanted to use her insightful perspective to illuminate his "poisonous tree."
But she didn't know that the source of both light and darkness was with him.
So be it.
Since you all want to see how I "cure" it.
So today, I will write a letter by hand and send it to myself.
Also, I send this to all those in that world who didn't have time to say goodbye.
He picked up the pen, his wrist steady.
The surrounding noise, the students writing furiously,
The cicadas chirping outside the window faded away at that moment.
In his world, only the scratching sound of pen tip touching paper remained.
Zhang Ya had already filled half a page.
She wrote at length, her eyes welling up with tears of self-reflection.
She inadvertently looked up, wanting to see Lin Que's embarrassment, only to find that he had finally started writing.
She curled her lip in disdain.
What can you possibly write by cramming at the last minute?
Unlike others, Lin Que did not start by writing "Dear Grandmother" or "Dear Heaven".
He simply wrote the title of the letter on the first line of the manuscript.
A Reply to Heaven
Then, on the next line, he put down his pen.
That wasn't a greeting, nor was it a confession.
That was just a statement, calm to the point of being heartbreaking.
"Dad, Mom."
"By the time you see this sentence, I will be dead."
...
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