Lin Zhi couldn't remember what happened that day. When he came to his senses, he was already at the train station. An acoustic guitar and an ordinary black backpack on his shoulders both suggested that he was in a hurry to go out. His father burned his mother's last piece of embroidery in front of him just because the woman said it was too tacky to hang at home, but that was Lin Xing's only spiritual sustenance for his mother. When he saw a ball of ashes lying coldly in the stainless steel basin in the corridor, he couldn't bear it anymore and rushed towards his father in the house like crazy, punching him one after another. , A long-term thin body is naturally not as good as a strong adult. He was pushed to the ground, and his father gave him a loud slap in the face and kicked him several times. He turned around and went to the corner to check on the frightened woman. After a few words, he took her hand and walked out. He crossed the threshold and looked back disdainfully at the boy lying on the ground with his abdomen curled up.
Like your mother
The man left these words and left. Lin Xing took back his stomach that was kicked to the point of nausea. It hurt so much. After his mother passed away, his father seemed to have changed. He beat him day after day for no reason. Ten years passed. Lin Xing thought to himself, it's time for me to leave. Mom, I want to leave.
He carried the acoustic guitar that his mother gave him on his back, and stuffed all the clothes he had from the closet into his backpack. There was still plenty of room in the bag, but the closet was empty. For the first time, Lin Bing felt that the closet could be so big. Before leaving, I took the red envelope that had been hidden in the crack for who knows how many years. It should be enough, and left this so-called home without looking back.
Lin Biao "picked up" eleven-year-old Lin Biao when he was seventeen. He took care of Lin Biao the way his mother had taken care of him before she was alive. For the first time, he felt that the existence of a life always has its own meaning. His meaning now is to let Lin Biao grow up.
Private Marseille, I don't want to write so much in Qianzhan, so I wrote it in the introduction.
Brother control relies heavily on offense
(My brother actually does a lot of little tricks, but he doesn't care at all. He pretends to be lazy in front of his brother, which makes us feel so relaxed. How could we children have seen so many things in the world? A novice leaves the village and accidentally becomes a succubus.) My brother is actually more realistic in his thinking and hesitant about feelings. He is afraid that he will not be able to achieve this identity.
Intention: to develop