"Sign this contract, and the wooden lattice window sill, the hydrangea in May, and the sky in June are all yours."
I don't know why, but I feel like he's like a devil in a fairy tale coaxing me.
It's the kind of devil trapped in a bottle, with dark pupils and a cold heart. If someone removes the cork, he will be released.
My face was reflected in the gilt mirror, and it looked very different from my usual self.
My mother's soul is hidden in the long years, secretly laughing at me through this similar painting, laughing at me for once looking down on her.
It turns out that it is not only the devil in the glass bottle that is calling me, but also that I am unconsciously looking for such a glass bottle.
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"Do you think we are worthy?"
"Whether it is worthy or not depends on whose eyes it is."
"By anyone's eyes."
"Then I say it's worthy."
"I said it's not worthy."
"Kid, I saw how powerful you were before. I didn't expect you to have quite low self-esteem."
"Mr. Zhi, maybe you are mistaken. What I said is unworthy is not that I am unworthy."
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First person essay.
Purpose: self-growth