When they reunited many years later, he stood in front of her in military uniform, with an upright posture.
She stared at his epaulettes, moved her lips, and held back a sentence: "Hello, may I ask..."
He interrupted her: "Don't do this with me."
He took a step forward, looked down at her, and said in a low voice:
"Call me by name. Call me by name."
Her eyes suddenly turned red.
Because she never called him by his full name in the yard before. She called him "Hey", called him "that so and so", and called him the most unpleasant nicknames, but she never called him by his full name seriously.
After he left, she began to recite the name silently over and over again in her heart - from surname to first name, she knew it better than anyone else.
Later I learned that the first thing he did when he came back was not to visit relatives or report on his work—it was to turn every book of mine to the last page.
