The best thing in the world is that when I like you, you like me at the same time.
At first sight, she was a test taker and he was an inspector. She was arrested by him due to a failed cheating attempted.
When they met again, she was the class repre...
As soon as we went downstairs, a call came in from my cousin, causing us to run back. The room was packed with people in white coats coming and going.
When my cousin saw me, he was quick to explain: "Right now, his heart suddenly failed. The doctor is giving him first aid."
Moments later, I saw the doctor shake his head helplessly, he called the nurse and told her to look at her watch, then added: "Time of death, 7:31 pm on October 1."
After that, all the devices were disconnected.
I hold onto my grandfather's hand, still warm, still soft, it all feels so unreal. In the end, not even my refusal could save him.
My grandmother arrived at the hospital shortly after, and when she saw Grandfather's corpse on the bed, she couldn't hold back the tears anymore and she began to cry.
Finally, I walked her outside to sit in the hallway chairs. Mu Chenghe stayed behind to help others in alerting acquaintances of the death and informing them of the place where he would be veiled. After a long time, my grandmother stopped crying, and she began to tell me stories about my father and my grandfather.
Since she hadn't eaten either, I was afraid she was hungry, so I asked her if she wanted to eat.
She said, "Peel me a pear."
When I came back from buying the pears, she asked me for apples. Patiently I went out again to buy some apples for her.
She looked at the apples and pears, then said, "Granpa, we eat whole pears."
Eat them whole, not split. This is the native dialect that my grandmother always mentions, meaning apples and pears should be eaten whole, not split. In this way, the family will always be together.
I can't help feeling sad.
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I borrowed a knife, washed the fruits, and then set about peeling the apples. Once they were ready, I gave them to my grandmother. She took them in her hands, but she did not dare to eat them, instead, she stared at them.
I continued cutting the pears.
When I started to cut them in half, my grandmother pulled my arm and said with a start, "No way! No way!"
The tugging made the knife slip from my hands, causing a deep gash in my palm. Since it was numb at first, it took a while for the blood to flow out. I reassured her, I put the fruit aside and ran to the bathroom to wash the wound.
The blade was very sharp and although the cut was only half an inch long, it was very deep, the blood would run off with the tap water, once the wound was washed well, I covered it with toilet paper.
When I returned, I noticed that the pear was also stained with my blood. So I threw it away and grabbed another fruit and kept peeling. In the past, Grandma used to scold me for being hard-hearted, cold, and insensitive. So far I have not cried.
