The Wound In My Heart (Chen Shang)

CHAPTER 9

[i heard the baby's cry and opened my eyes to find myself dreaming.] i couldn't even tell if it was a dream or a nightmare. 】

song mo could not communicate well with others, although he did not go to school at the age of five, he would be full of classes for six days a week. it's like me.

i livestream six days a week, and i only take one day off. however, due to the previous live broadcast accident, i did not slow down, so i took two more days off with the platform administrator to make up enough for three days to completely relax.

it was originally lingering, and i didn't care that it was more mushy.

song bailao's collection of books is very impressive, with four walls, four or five meters high walnut bookcase neatly stacked, the top of the book must rely on the ladder to assist to get.

in the center of the library, there is a hand-woven carpet with a crimson pattern, a well-made black leather sofa pressed on the central axis of the carpet in absolute symmetry, and a single sofa is placed on each side of the same position, surrounding the coffee table made of walnut wood.

the layout of the entire library is comfortable, heavy, and a bit obsessive.

i was a little dazzled by the number of books at once, and i looked over the wall, looking for two books and magazines that introduced dessert cake. but i don't know if it is the reason why song bailao is not interested in this aspect, but it can be seen very little.

finally i climbed the ladder and began to look up.

the long staircase moved down the slide between bookshelves, and when i didn't find a baking book, a photo album called the meaning of life caught my eye. i pulled it out of the bookshelf, not wanting the contents to scatter and fall to the ground without noticing.

i was startled and hurried down to pick it up. most of them were stacked in all directions, and one of them had been unfolded, and i picked up the unfolded piece of paper and looked at it, and found that it was not a postcard or poster that came with the book, but a letter.

the handwriting is immature, and there is a kind of precocious puberty beyond age between the lines.

[mom, can you take me away?] i don't want to stay here, i don't like this new home.

dad said that the father and son of the xia family were his responsibility, so what are we? are we his victims?

yesterday i rescued an injured bird, and in the evening xia yanchi fell ill, dad was very angry and threw the bird out, this morning i found its body.

i was so sad, i hated him so much.

mom, please come and see me, i miss you so much.

......】

after reading a few paragraphs, i realized that this was a letter that song bailao wrote to his mother when he was a child. prying eyes are not always good, i did not continue to look down, folded it up and stacked it with several other letters.

opening the photo book, i found an empty envelope in a page about the "red-billed acacia bird."

the envelope was yellowed and dated, and the side that wrote the address recipient was stamped with the word "return", which was not successfully sent.

i couldn't help but imagine that the young song bailao was looking forward to his mother coming to pick him up every day, and after writing several letters with no reply in a row, he received his own returned letter in hope. he finally realized that the other party might have left the place that could once be called "home." his letter could not be passed on to anyone, and so was his suffering. from then on he gave up the struggle and hid the letters until he forgot about their existence.