The ashes fall from the chimney and fall on everyone, which will never be washed away.
A young man who burned boilers in a waste incineration plant used a pen to write from the ashes into the group's office on the 38th floor.
My father had been pulling a garbage truck for thirty years. In the end, the thing he had been pulling for a lifetime was burned by lung cancer and turned into a handful of fly ash. He spent his life in exchange for the last amount of money his son could save. He wrote these into "The People Underground", and overnight he became "the person who speaks for the bottom."
But no one knew that the ladder that sent him to heaven was built one by one with calculation and price - 8.37 Million, a fake watch, a person holding a lamp in the dark, and a person who dragged him into the abyss. He couldn't tell.
He could have become a very good writer, but step by step he became the kind of person he cursed in his writings.
He is a firefly in the darkness, lighting up once and then again.
Then, it was destroyed.
The fly ash is still there.
The firefly went out.
This is a story about falling: how a person uses his brightest light to personally illuminate the way into the abyss.
