The sycamore leaves outside the window fell sixty-one times.
Shen Zhongwen counted them. Every autumn, when the last leaf fell, he would stand under the tree for a while, looking at the bare branches, thinking that the flowers would bloom again next spring.
But some people, once they fall behind, never leave again.
He is seventy-nine years old and has been lying on this bed in a nursing home for ten years. In the past ten years, he has been awake less and less, and has been confused more and more. The caregivers privately said that the old man in the third bed was crazy. He was always talking to the air, calling him "Wan Qing", "Son", and "Daughter".
The file clearly stated: No children, never married.
But they didn't know that in his world, he had a wife, children, and a complete life.
That was in another world.
A world only he can see
