After my father died, I found my own death countdown in his white porcelain pen holder.
Introduction:
My father had terminal lung cancer and left me only seven words before his death: "Don't touch the green at the bottom of the pen holder."
I originally thought this was just another slip of the tongue made by my cowardly father - it was obviously a white porcelain pen holder.
Until I saw it under a UV lamp, seven circles of cyan-blue scratches appeared on the bottom of the pen holder.
The sixth circle is engraved with the Director of Housing and Urban-Rural Development who died in a car accident yesterday.
The fifth circle is the mining CEO who suffered a "heart attack" four years ago.
The first circle is my father who was demoted forty years ago.
And the seventh circle is my name.
Duration: forty-nine days.
It turns out that deep in the officialdom of our city, a secret trading system with Song Dynasty celadon as a certificate has been running.
"Azure glaze" represents promotion, "moon white glaze" represents silence, "sesame nail marks" represents audit cleaning...
And my father was the earliest recorder of this system and the final breaker.
Forty-nine days later, the general election ended.
Either I become the eighth "accidental death" person.
Or, use the pen holder left by my father to pierce the forty-year-old sky.
