I'm Fifteen, and I've Really Come Back

When Ye Haibo opened his eyes, the room still smelled of the familiar mold.

Outside the window, cicadas sang in the summer of his fifteenth year. On the table sat half a bowl of leftover rice porridge from the night before. His mother's muffled cough came from the next room. He froze for two seconds, then leaped out of bed and rushed inside. There was his mother, Ye Hongfang. She was still alive, her thin shoulders trembling slightly. Ye Haibo's eyes reddened as he clutched her hand. “Mom, this time, I won't let you leave me again.”