The little girl from the neighbor's Su family ran over, cuddled up with his daughter, and looked at him in panic. Later, his old husband, her brother-in-law and her brother-in-law's adopted child Chi Pu also came over.
Both her mother and her sister were dead, like her, suddenly of heart disease. That's a genetic disease that runs in her family. It's hard to imagine that her sister and brother-in-law actually adopted a child, Chi Pu, who also had a heart disease.
They kept talking in his ears, anxious and sad, but he couldn't hear anything they said. What finally made him calm down was his and her only daughter. Those eyes were as black and clear as without a trace of impurity, and they looked exactly like hers.
Finally, he saw her in the small hotel called Yangliu in Lushan.
She leaned lightly on the wooden table in front of the window, with Ruqin Lake outside the window. The room is full of messy drawings, and every frame is the same. A butterfly with broken wings and an ugly body lies in front of a pool of autumn water. It wants to see through it, but it can never fly across it.
For a butterfly with broken wings, death is the best destination, otherwise what else can there be? Ruqin Lake is over there and Chi Zheng is over here. The sea is over there, and the butterflies are over here. The fate of butterflies is destined not to fly across the sea.
Looking at the pool of tears in Ruqin Lake, her eyes did not close, as if she was waiting for an answer, or maybe there would never be an answer. She may have been confident in the heart of the person she loved most, but before he left, she was in trouble and confusion.
Everyone present covered their faces and dared to watch. Yang Zhi, the hotel owner's child, hid in his parents' arms in fear.
Was her death horrific
No. It happened to be winter, and the body had not decayed. Her eyes were wide open, as clear as before.
He suddenly didn't dare to look into her eyes carefully, for fear of seeing resentment in them, for fear that she would fall into reincarnation with deep hatred for him.
The small room was crowded with people at this time, and she was the only one who died in silence and loneliness. When he died, no one was around. His wife.
I still remember that day he said to her, I hope my wife is you.
Haha, now he is forcing her to death with his own hands.
He tremblingly hugged her into his arms, just like he had done thousands of times before, but this time, she would never call him "Ayi" again. Never again. There is no forever between them.
His eyes fell on the small wooden table. The rice paper on it was still covered with ugly butterflies. He was suddenly startled... There were words on the paper. Written in charcoal, crookedly.
At that time, she only had this shortened charcoal pencil in her hand. Some people have said that her paintings are amazing, but her calligraphy is not beautiful. Before she died, she used her last drop of energy to write it, and it looked so ugly.
"Shen Tuo, help me..."
There were charcoal scraps snaking behind them. They were unfinished words, but they had nothing to do with him or their daughter. In addition to the pain and regret, he was filled with anger, which made him cut her flesh and bones in hatred.
Chi Zheng, are you using this method to force me to hate you and remember you for the rest of my life, or is it that the one you love most in your heart is actually another person
Shen Tuo, he knows this man. She never hides anything from him. That was the man who pursued her before she met him. The son of a businessman, his family is well off. She once told him that the man was very nice.
He smiled and asked why she chose him in the end.
She just smiled, "Mr. Yi, let Chi Zheng keep a little secret."
The secret is that when she married him, she was actually someone else in her heart
After finishing her funeral, he trapped himself in her studio.
It was more like a classroom than a studio. After her marriage, she seldom painted.
She devoted her attention to him, him and her daughter. Although he retired, he had a wide circle of friends. In his early years, he had many friends in official circles and shopping malls, and they were not just casual acquaintances.
She is the most outstanding painter, but she is too shy and unsociable. She only immerses herself in painting, unlike Wang Luyao. She followed him, watched quietly, learned slowly, helped him greet his friends, and later helped him run a home.
Youyan seems clumsy, not inheriting his father's wisdom, nor his mother's talents. When friends came to play, they all lamented the pity. But she stubbornly accompanied her little daughter to paint one stroke at a time. From the simplest copying to the most complex abstraction.
Her kindness became clear in his mind little by little.
He felt hurt and regretful, and at the same time he hated her even more. What she wrote with her last breath of strength was not his name. If it had been their daughter's name, he would have been better off.
The questions she had for him before she died seemed to have become his questions now, Chi Zheng, who do you really have in mind