Shen Qingqiu's fingers paused slightly.
Sent to heaven?
Another death-themed story?
A sense of disappointment welled up inside her.
The child is still stuck in that dark and gloomy atmosphere and can't get out of it.
She patiently continued reading.
[Dad, Mom.]
By the time you see this sentence, I will already be dead.
The first sentence made Shen Qingqiu's brows furrow into a deep frown.
How could this child curse himself in an exam essay?
This kind of opening is a major taboo in grading papers!
She resisted the urge to immediately cross it out and continued reading.
Don't cry. Please don't cry.
Did you know? Death isn't the end, but a journey. I'm now in a very, very high place, where there are no mortgage payments, no calls demanding deadlines, and no that damned rheumatism.
I'm here, and I can see our window.
The red pen that Shen Qingqiu was about to use was left hanging in mid-air.
The writing is plain and simple, without any fancy rhetoric or horrifying descriptions.
But for some reason, these few lines of text caught my eye...
It felt as if it had a weight on it, pressing heavily on my heart.
Mom, do you remember when I called you last week and told you I had just eaten braised pork?
Actually, I lied to you.
That day I worked overtime until 3 a.m. and ate instant noodles.
But I dare not say it, for I'm afraid you'll nag me to resign again.
Dad, you always say I waste money buying useless figurines.
Actually, I sold all of them, and I've saved the money.
The password to the metal box under my bed is my birthday.
There was 200,000 yuan inside. I originally planned to buy you a new apartment with an elevator when I went home for the New Year.
Unfortunately, I left in such a hurry that I didn't have time to tell you.
Shen Qingqiu's breathing gradually became cautious.
This was not the horror story she had envisioned, nor was it the kind of fabricated tragedy created to grab attention.
What flows between the lines is a suffocating truth.
The realism was so strong, it was as if the author had actually experienced death.
He truly is in another world, gazing upon the living with deep remorse.
I know you'll cry.
Mom, your eyesight isn't good. If you cry too much, you won't be able to see the road clearly.
Dad, your blood pressure is high; your hands shake when you get excited.
Please, please, don't let me see you cry for me.
In this world, tears are the heaviest rain.
If you cry, it will rain heavily here, and I won't be able to fly up to the clouds to bask in the sun.
Shen Qingqiu felt a lump in her throat.
"Tears are the heaviest rain..."
She repeated the sentence in a low voice.
What a peculiar metaphor, yet how tender.
Is this really written by Lin Que, the one who wrote "The Black Sun" and "Tearing Open the Wound"?
The article is still ongoing.
Although I am no longer here, I have not disappeared.
I will become the first ray of sunshine falling on the balcony in spring, to warm Dad's knees.
I will become a breeze in autumn, helping my mother dry the clothes she has just washed.
So, when the wind blows and the sun shines on you, that's when I'm hugging you.
Dad, Mom, I haven't been a good son to you in this life.
I'm disobedient, I always make you angry, I haven't even had a chance to take you on an airplane, or cook you a meal.
If there is a next life...
Forget it, let's not have a next life.
In the next life, I'll be the father, and you can be the children.
Let me take care of you, let me work hard to earn money, let me buy you a big house, let me watch you grow up carefree.
Money in the bank account, love in the wind.
[Son's last words.]
After reading the last line...
Shen Qingqiu remained in the position of holding the test paper, without moving for a long time.
The teachers at the next table were discussing how salty the braised pork in the cafeteria was today, while the air conditioner was blowing loudly.
Snap.
A drop of water blurred the words "final words".
The black ink spread like a wound.
Shen Qingqiu subconsciously reached out to wipe it.
Only when my fingertips touched the damp paper did I realize that my vision was already completely blurred.
She took off her glasses and awkwardly wiped away the tears from the corners of her eyes with the back of her hand.
She is a Chinese language teacher who has read countless moving masterpieces.
She thought she had long since developed a heart of stone.
They can calmly examine the structure and techniques of each student's essay.
But today, she broke down.
...
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