My mother was blown up in the kitchen due to a gas leak. I hid in the bedroom and watched quietly as she was scorched by the fire until her flesh and blood were mutilated, indifferent. In my last life, after the kitchen was bombed, I immediately ran into the kitchen to save my mother, but no one could be found when I went in. Until I was swallowed up by the raging fire and suffered severe burns over large areas of my body. Lying on the hospital bed, I saw my brother holding my mother, who was still intact, standing beside my bed. They looked at me and smiled proudly. I eventually died due to ineffective rescue efforts, and before I died, they signed an organ donation agreement on their behalf. To the end of my life, I never understood why my mother, who had promised to cook for me, was not in the kitchen at that time. How did the high concentration of gas in the kitchen cause an explosion? When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day when the gas leaked in the kitchen.
